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Melodies  and  Madrigals; 


FROM    THE    OLD   ENGLISH    POETS. 


EDITED     BY 


RICHARD    HENRY    STODDARD. 


'  Melodious  birds  sing  madrigals." 


NEW    YORK: 
BUNCE    AND    HUNTINOTON,    rUBI.ISIlF.RS. 

M  DCCC  LXVI. 


Entered  according  to  Aft  of  Congress,  in   the  year  1865, 

Bv  BuNCE  AND   Huntington, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the   Distrift  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern 
DistrifV  of  New  York. 


FREFJCE. 


'  I  "*HE  object  which  I  had  in  view  while  collerting  the 
materials  of  this  volume  was,  to  present  the  Engli?ii 
Poets  in  their  most  poetical  moods ;  not  as  the  makers  ot 
long,  sustained  poems,  which  most  ot  them  are  not,  but 
as  the  singers  of  short,  sweet,  unpremeditated  lyrics.  1 
use  the  word  Lyric  rather  than  Song,  because  it  best  de- 
scribes the  seleftions  which  follow,  and  because  1  take  it 
to  be  a  purer,  as  it  certainly  was  an  earher,  manifestatio.i 
of  the  element  which  underlies  the  Song.  Songs,  as  we 
understand  them,  are  of  comparatively  recent  growth. 
There  are  no  songs,  modernly  speaking,  in  Shakespf.ark 
and  the  Elizabethan  dramatists,  but  lyrics  in  abundance. 
The  difference  between  these  lyrics  and  our  songs  is 
manifest :  the  one  being  a  simple,  unstudied  cvprcssion  ot 
thought,  sentiment,  or  passion  ;  the  oilier  its  expression 
according  to  the  mode  of  the  day.  The  lyrist  sang  to 
a  tune  within  him  : 

("Heard   melodiei  are  sweet,  but  those  unheard 
Are  sweeter;    therefore,  ye  SJt't  pipei,  pljy  on  I") 


The  song-writer  composes  with  a  strirt  regard  to  conven- 
tional rliythms  and  metres,  counting  his  verses  on  h'.s 
fingers,  and  remembering  the  lessons  of  his  music-teacher. 
The  thought,  the  sentiment  of  the  former  depends  upon 
th;  whim  of  the  moment  ;  that  of  the  latter,  upon  tlie 
thesis  which  he  intends  to  prove.  Reason  predominates 
in  the  one,  Imagination  in  the  other. 

The  early  periods  of  English  Poetry  are  rich  in  the 
Lvrical-element — almost  as  rich  as  in  the  Dramatic,  with 
which  it  frequently  flourished — springing  from  its  excessive 
vitalitv,  like  the  myriad  wild-flowers  which  light  up  the 
depths  of  tangled  woods.  "The  little  lyrics,"  says  Barp.y 
Cornwall,  "  which  are  scattered,  like  stars,  over  ttie  sur- 
face of  our  old  dramas,  are  sometimes  minute,  trifling,  and 
undefined  in  their  objeft  ;  but  they  are  often  eminently 
fine ;  in  fad,  the  finest  things  of  the  kind  which  our  lan- 
guage possesses.  There  is  more  inspiration,  more  air  and 
lyrical  quality  about  them,  than  in  songs  of  ten  times 
their  pretension.  And  this,  perhaps,  arises  from  the  dra- 
matic faculty  of  the  writers  ;  who,  being  accustomed,  in 
other  things,  to  shape  their  verse  so  as  to  suit  the  char- 
aders  and  different  purposes  of  the  drama,  naturally  extend 
this  care  to  the  fashion  of  the  songs  themselves.  In  cases 
where  a  writer  speaks  in  his  own  person,  he  expends  all 
his  egotism  upon  his  lyrics  ;  and  requires  that  a  critic 
should  be  near  to  curta.l  his  misdeeds.      When   he  wriics 


as  a  dramatist,  he  h,  or  ought  to  be,  the  critic  himself. 
He  is  not,  so  to  speak,  at  all  implicated  in  what  is  going 
forward  in  the  poem  ;  but  deals  out  the  dialogue  like  an 
indifferent  bystander,  seeking  only  to  adjust  it  to  the 
necessities  of  the  ailors.  He  is  above  the  struggle  and 
turmoil  of  the  battle  below,  and 

'Sees,  as   from    a   tower,   the   end   of  all.' 

It  is,  in  fail,  this  power  of  forgetting  himself,  and  of  im- 
agining and  fashioning  charaders  different  from  his  own, 
which  constitutes  the  dramatic  quality.  A  man  who  tan 
set  aside  his  own  idiosyncrasy,  is  halt  a  dramatist." 

The  lyrics  of  what  we  rather  loosely  call  the  Eliza- 
bethan Poets, — a  classification  which  frequently  embraces 
their  successors  in  the  reign  of  James  the  First, — arc,  it 
seems  to  me,  the  finest  specimens  of  poetry,  "pure  and 
simple,"  in  the  whole  range  of  English  Literature.  Their 
chief  charaderistic  is  naturalness, — real  or  apparent,  it  is 
not  easy,  in  all  cases,  to  decide  which.  What  wc  call  Art 
(which  is  often  but  another  name  for  artifice),  appears 
never  to  have  crossed  the  minds  of  their  singers,  at  least 
while  they  were  singing;  to  listen  to  them  is  like  listening 
to  the  song  of  the  lark. 

The  poets  of  Charles  the  First's  time — accomplislicd, 
courtly  gentlemen  that  they  were — delighted  in  tlic  Lyric, 
which,  however,  had  begun  to  lose  its  early  simplicity  :  it 


was  graceful,  h  was  elegant,  but  it  was  studied,  mannered, 

aftedcd. 

"  The  hour 

Of"  glory  in   the  grass,  of  freshness  in  the   fiower," 

had  passed  awav.  What  it  was  in  the  reign  of  Charles 
the  Second,  and  later,  the  reader  may  see  for  himself,  in 
the  specimens  of  that  period  which  I  have  given,  and 
which  are  the  best  that  I  could  find,  indifferent  as,  I  fear, 
manv  of  them  are. 

The  Eighteenth  Century  was  almost  destitute  of  Lyrics, 
though  it  abounded  in  what  were  by  courtesy  called  Songs, 
most  of  which  appear  to  have  been  composed  by  that 
celebrated  Myth,  "  A  Person  of  Quality,"  and  his,  or  her, 
immediate  connexions — 

"  The   mob   of  gentlemen    who   wrote   with  ease." 

Peace  to  their  ashes !  I  could  not  find  it  in  my  heart 
to  disturb  them,  entombed  as  they  are  in  the  ponderous 
collections  of  Johnson,  Anderson,  and  Chalmers.  Barren 
as  the  last  century  was  in  poetry  of  a  high  order,  its  close 
witnessed  the  revival  of  the  Lyrical-element,  which  may  be 
traced,  I  think,  to  two  causes, — the  publication  of  Bishop 
Percy's  "  Rdiqius  of  Ancient  English  Poetry"  and  the 
songs  of  Burns — a  born  poet,  if  there  ever  was  one,  who 
ruled  as  supremely  over  his  "scanty  plot  of  ground"  as 
Shakespeare  over  his  Universe. 


What  the  lyrics  of  the  present  time  are,  the  reader 
may  be  supposed  to  know.  They  will  not  compare  with 
those  of  the  Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth  Centuries,  but 
they  are  genuine,  as  far  as  they  go.  The  best  of  them, 
to  my  thinking,  are  Barry  Cornwall's — a  venerable  name, 
which  must  soon  pass  from  amongst  us. 

The  arrangement  adopted  here  is  that  which  should 
always  obtain  in  works  of  this  nature,  viz.,  the  chrono- 
logical one.  The  lyrics  of  each  poet  are  placed  in  the 
order  in  which  they  were  written,  so  far  as  I  could  ascer- 
tain it,  and  the  whole  in  strift  succession  of  time.  Where 
several  are  taken  from  one  poet,  as  in  the  case  of 
Shakespeare  and  Fletcher,  the  date  of  the  earliest  deter- 
mines his  place  in  the  century.  Shakespeare,  for  instance, 
is  placed  in  the  year  1592,  the  date  assigned  by  Dyce  to 
"Lovers  Labour'' s  Lost;"  and  Fletcher  in  1610,  the 
date  of  the  publication  of  his  "Faithful  Skeplierdess.''^ 
Where  an  author's  works  were  not  published  until  after 
his  death,  the  lyric,  or  lyrics,  selefted  therefrom,  arc,  of 
course,  placed  before  his  death.  In  such  cases  one  can 
only  approximate  to  correal  chronology  :  certainty  is  im- 
possible. The  student  of  English  Poetry  will  detect,  in 
most  cases,  the  reasons  which  have  influenced  me  in  assign- 
ing the  conjectural  dates.  Had  I  made  the  collertion 
for  him  alone,  I  would  have  added  annotations  of  all  sorts, 
which,    by-the-way,   I  could   hardly  restrain   myself  from 


doing.  But,  working  for  the  general  reader,  who  seldom 
cares  for  the  laborious  trifles  of  the  scholar,  however  curi- 
ous they  may  be,  I  have  he  the  poets  speak  for  themselves, 
without  note  or  comment  from  me.  The  text  is  as  pure 
as  I  could  make  it.  I  dare  not  flatter  myself,  however, 
that  it  is  absolutely  pure,  so  much  have  the  old  poets  been 
tampered  with  by  those  who  have  edited  them,  and  those 
who  have  quoted  from  them.  In  the  matter  of  spelling, 
punftuacion,  etc.,  I  have  conformed  to  the  usage  of  to-day, 
not  being  able  to  see  the  sacredness  of  the  old  style  of 
typography, — the  phonographic  spelling  of  the  author, 
the  whims  of  his  printers,  and  the  blunders  of  the  press 

generally. 

R.    H.    s. 
New  York,  No-vemhcr   i,   1865. 


CONT'ENrS. 


An  Earneji  Suit Sir  Thomas  Wvatt      i 

A  Praise  of  his  Love Henry  Howard  (Earl  cf  Surrey)      a 

A  Sonnet John  Hakington     4 

A  Ditty Sir  Philip  Sidney      5 

Of  his  Csnthia Fllke  Greville  (Lord  Brooke)      5 

Song John  Lyly     7 

Song J"HN  Lyly     7 

Song  John  Lyly     S 

Madrigal Musxa  Transalpina     9 

Madrigal MusicA  Transalpina     9 

The  Herdsman  s  Happf  Life Byrd's  Songs   lo 

Rosalind's  Madrigal Thomas  Lodge    i  i 

The  Silent  Lo-ver Sir  Walter  Raleigh    i; 

Phillida  and  Corydon Nicholas  Breton    15 

A  Pafloral  of  Phillis  and  Corydon Nicholas  Breion    16 

S'jng George  I'eele   i- 

The  Paffionate  Shepherd  to  his  Lofe Chp.istopher  Marlowe    I 

A  Dirge  Thomas  Nash    i 

Song Thomas  Na!ii  z 

Philomela's  Ode RoiiERT  Griene   i 

"  On  a  day,  (alack  the  day  ! )" William  SiiA;;KSPrARE   2 

"  O'vcr  hill,  o-ver  dale" V/iLLlAM  SHAKESPtAnr.    Z 

Sjng  Wii  i.iAM  Shakespeahe   i 

Song William  SMAKEiPtARi   : 


PA  OB 

Song William  Shakespeare  25 

Song William  Shakespeare  2.6 

Song  William  Shakespeare   2- 

Song William  Shakespeare  iS 

Song William  Shakespeare  2g 

Song Will: AM  Shakespeare  29 

Song William  Shakespeare  29 

Song William  Shakespeare   30 

Song William  Shakespeare   30 

Song  John  Donne   31 

Madrigal "VVilbye's  Madrigals   3  3 

Aladrigal W.lbye's  Madrigals   33 

Madrigal Wilbye's  Madrigals   34 

Madrigal Wilb ye's  Madrigals   34 

•  Madrigal WiL3 ye's  Madrigals   3  5 

Spring-Song WeeltvEs's  Ballals    35 

An  Ode R:chard  Barnef;eld   56 

Song Thomas  Dekker   38 

To  the  Spring S;r,  JcHN  Davies    39 

The  Coy  Maidcn\  Consent Farmer's  English  Madrigals   42 

The  Flight  of  Phillis Farmer's  English  Madrigals  40 

Damclus'  Song Henry  Constable  41 

The  Nymphs,  meeting,  etc Thomas  Watson  42 

False  Dorus Morley's  Madrigals  43 

In'vocation  to  Night Dowland's  Book  of  Songs  43 

To  Cynthia Dowland's  Book  of  Songs  44 

His  Lady^s  Grief Dowland's  Book  of  Songs  45 

Madrigal Weelkes' s  Madrigals  46 

Madrigal Weelkes's  Madrigals  47 

Of  Corinna^s  Singing Thomas  Campion  47 

.Madrigal Thomas  Campion  48 

A  Song Davison's  Poetical  Rhapsody  49 


Ode Davison's  Poetical  Rhapsody  50 

Madrigal Davison's  Poetical  Rhapsody  51 

Aladrigal Weelkes's  Madrigals  51 

There  is  a  Garden Alligdn's  Hour's  Recreation  jn  Music  52 

Song Sir  Robert  Ayton  .53 

Aladrigal Bateson's  Madrigals  54 

Song Thomas  Heywood  54 

Aladriga! Weelkes's  Airs  5  5 

Song Ben  Jonson  56 

To  Celia Ben  Jonson  56 

To  Celia Ben  Jonson  57 

TAc  Triumph  of  Char  is Ben  Jonson  5  3 

The  Wooing  Song  of  Panglory Giles  Fletcher  59 

Song John  Fletcher  61 

Song John  Fletcher  ti 

Song J""N  Fletcher  6i 

Song John  Fletcher  63 

Song John  Fletcher  63 

Song John  Fletcher  64 

Aladriga! Pilkincton's  Madrigals  65 

"Shall  I,  ivajling  in  despair  f" George  Wither  65 

"  Call  for  the  robin  redhrcafl  and  the  ivren" John  Webster  67 

"Hark,  noiv  e'very  thing  is  fiiir JcHH  Webste:i  67 

"  All  the  fioiuers  of  the  Spring"" John  We:!STEr  C8 

Madrigal Ward's  Madrigals  69 

The  CharaBer  cf  a  Happy  Life SiR  HenRY  Wotton  69 

On  his  Alijlress,  the  ^een  of  Bohemia Sir  Henry  WoTTON  70 

The  Indifferent Franc:s  Beaumont  71 

Madrigal William  Drummonu  72 

^  f^l;s William  DRiMMoNn  73 

Desired  Death  William  Drummonk  -3 

To  Sleep Wi:liam  Diiummond  74 


'' S/iall  I  tell  you  -whom  I  loi-c  f" W.lliam  Browne  74 

Song William  Bxowne  75 

Song  Samuel  Daniel  76 

Song Samuel  Daniel  77 

Song Nathaniel  Field  78 

The  Crier Michael  Drayton  78 

Song William  Herbert  (Earl  of  Pembroke)  79 

Song Leonard  Digges  80 

Song Max:;ham  and  Sampson  81 

Song Thomas  Goffe  82 

Song Robert  Gomersall  83 

A  Song,  for  the  j\l:ific  LeCiure Robert  Gomersall  83 

Song Thomas  Randolph  84 

Song Philip  Mass:nger  85 

Virtue George  Herbert  85 

Disdain  Returned Thomas  Carew  86 

Song Thomas  Carew  87 

Song Thomas  Carew  SS 

Song John  Ford  88 

Dirge Jo"^'  Ford  8} 

Song Sam L  EL  Ro WLZY  9  d 

To  Roses  in  the  Bosom  of  Cafiara William  Habingto:j  90 

Upon  Cajlaras  Departure William  Hab;ngton  91 

Song John  Milton  92 

Song John  Milton  93 

Song Henry  Killigrew  94 

Sing Sir  John  Suckling  95 

Song Sir  John  Suckling  96 

Of  a  Mijlrcss Thomas  Nabbes  97 

Song Henry  Glapthorne  97 

Out  of  the  Italian Richard  Crash  aw  98 

Dirge Sicily  and  Naples  :  a  Tragedy  too 


To  Cynthia Sir  Francis  Kinaston  ioi 

Song Sir  John  Denham  103 

To  Althca.      From  Prison Richard  Lovelace  103 

Song Richard  Lovelace  105 

A  ValcdiBion William  Cartwright  105 

On  a  Girdle Edmund  Waller  106 

Go,  LoTcly  Rose Edmund  Waller  107 

T/ie  PaJJing-Bel! James  Shirley  loS 

Song James  Shirley  108 

Song. —  Celia  in  Lox'e  Martin  Lluellin  109 

Honour Abraham  Cowley  i  10 

Cherry-ripe Robert  Herrick  III 

To  Mcadoivs Robert  Herrick  i  i  2, 

To  Primroses  filled  ivith  Morning  De~u Robert  Herrick  11-5 

To  Daffodils Robert  Herrick  114 

To  Bloffoms  Robert  Herrick  i  i  5 

To   Virgins,  to  make  much  of  Time Robert  Herrick  116 

The  Night-piece,  to  Julia Robert  Herrick  ii- 

To  the  Weftern  Wind Robert  Herrick  iiS 

To  the  Water-Nymphs Robert  Herrick  i  iS 

To  EleBra Robert  Herrick  119 

$ong Thomas  May  i  19 

The  Retreat Henry  Vaughan  izo 

The  Shower Henry  Vaughan  121 

Song Robert  Cox  lii 

The  Exequies  Thomas  Stanley  123 

Lo've  Once,  Lo-ve  Ever Sir  Edward  Sherburne  1:4 

5„„p- Robert  Baron  u^ 

The  Angler^  Wifl} I/aak  Walton  125 

Amintor^  Well-a-Day H.  Huches  I  i? 

To  Amanda,  lea-ving  him  alone N.  Hookes  128 

Song Sir  Richard  Fanshaw  129 

xiii 


Song Richard  Flixknoe   130 

On  C/iloris  <walking  in  the  Snoiu Wit's  Recreations   130 

Song Henry  King  (Bijhop  of  CliichcJJcr)   131 

Fairy  Soi:g Mvsteries  of  Love  and  Eloquence   132 

Song Thomas  Ford   134 

To  the  Inconfiant  Cynthia Sir  Robert  Howard   135 

Song Philonax  Lovekin   136 

Song Sir  George  Etherege   156 

The  Rcsol-ve Alexander  Brome   137 

On  Claret Alexander  Brome   138 

Song Sir  William  Davenant   139 

Song Sir  William  Davenant   140 

To  Chlorii Charles  Cotion    141 

Song Sir  Charles  Sedley   142 

Song S  R  Charles  Sedley    143 

Out  cf  Lycophron Sir  Charles  Sedley   143 

Song The  Acaeemy  of  Compliments    144 

Lo've''s  Bra-vo Thomas  Flatman   145 

Song Sir  Francis  Fane   146 

Uncertain  Lome Thomas  Duffett    146 

The  Moiver  to  the  Glonv-ivorms Andrew  Marvell    147 

Lo've  and  Life ...' 1°"^  Wilmot  {Earl  of  Rochefer)   148 

Song John  Sheffield  {Duke  of  Buckingham)    149 

Song Rodert  Gould   149 

^n  Incantation John  Dryden    150 

Ode  on  Solitude Alexander  Pope    151 

Song Mathew  Prior   152 

Dirge  in  Cymbeline William  Collins   153 

A  Bacchanalian Thomas  Chatterton    154 

A  Red,  Red  Rose Robert  Burns   154 

Song Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge    155 

Choral  Song Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge    156 


^"S Thomas  Moore   156 

^' 0  Nightingale  !    thou  surely  art'" William  Wordsworth   157 

To  the  Lady  Anne  Hamilton Hon.  William  Robert  Spencer   158 

^""g SiR  Walter  Scott  159 

'■'■Wafted,  iveary,  ivhereforeftaf '' Sir,  Walter  Scott    159 

She  Walks  in  Beauty Lord  Byron    160 

■^'"f John  Keats   161 

A  Fragment John  Keats    16; 

Song PsKcv  BvssHE  Shellky   163 

Love's  Philosophy Percy  Bysshe  Shelley   163 

S'->"g Percy  Bv:ghe  Shelley   164 

Song  to  May Lord  Thorlow   j66 

Song  to  the  E-ocning  Star Thomas  Campbei  l    167 

Song Thomas  Lovell  Beddoes   168 

Dirge Thomas  Lovell  Beddoes  i6g 

A  Song Thomas  Lovell  Beddoes   170 

Ballad Thomas  Hood   J71 

Ballad Thomas  Hood   172 

Nephon's  Song Geouce  Darley    I  72 

A  Serenade Georgk  Uarley    I  74 

"  Szveet  in  her  green  dell  the  JJo-zver,"  etc George  Darley    175 

The  Ca-valicr's  Song Wli.i.lAM  Motherwell    176 

Song Hartley  Coleridge   177 

Song Henry  Taylor   177 

The  Blackbird James  Montgomery   178 

A  Phantasy Bryan  Waller  Procter   1-9 

The  Fareiuell  of  the  Soldier lirtYAN  Waller  Procter    180 

A  Bridal  Dir^e Bryan  Waller  I'rocter   181 

A  Bacchanalian  Song Bryan  Waller  Procter    1S2 

Song Robert  Bruwnino   1S3 

Song Rom  RT  Browning   1S4 

Song Robert  Browning   184 


The  Loft  Mftrcss Robert  Browning   185 

nottdeau Leigh  Hunt    1S5 

Cupid  Sivalloii^ed Leigh  Hunt    186 

^g„^ Walter  Savage  Landor   186 

_jg„p. Walter  Savage  Landor    18^ 

_5g„p. Walter  Savage  Landor   187 

^gjj„ Walter  Savage  Landor   188 

The  Age  of  Whdom William  Makepeace  Thackeray   189 

^       ....Charles  Kingsley    190 

^       Charles  Kingsley    191 

«  Thy  -voice  is  heard,''  etc Alfred  Tennyson    191 

«^5  through  the  land  at  e-ve  lue  iverii" Alfred  Tennyson   192 

^^S-weet  and  lo-w,  siveet  and  loiv" Alfred  Tennyson   192 

«  Come  not  -when  lam  dead" Alfred  Tennyson    193 

The  Sentence, Coventry  Patmore   195 

The  Re-velation Coventry  Patmore   19+ 


EDMUND     CLARENCE     STEDMAN, 


P  O  i;  T  ,     SCHOLAR,      (;  !■  N   T  L  E  M  A  N  , 


WITH     THE     l.OVE    OF     HIS     FRIEND 


R     II.   S. 


"  The  courts  of  kings  hear  no  such  ftrains 
As  daily  lull  the  ruftic  swains." 

England's   Helican. 


"  I  would  rather  than    forty  fhillings    1   had  my  book   of  songs 
and  sonnets  here." 

Mirry    J^ives   0/  IFindsor. 


"  Mark  it,  Cesario  ;   it  is  old  and  plain  : 
The  spinfters  and  the  knitters  in  the  sun. 
And  the  free  maids,  that  weave  their  thread  with  bones. 
Do  use  to  chant  it  ;    it  is  filly  sooth. 
And  dallies  with  the  innocence  of  love, 
Like  the  old  age." 

Twclrth  Nigh:. 


"■  They  were  old-fafhioned  poetry,  but  choicely  good,  I  think 
much  better  than  the  ftrong  lines  that  are  now  in  falTiion  in  this 
critical  age." 

Ix,aak   JValton. 


Melodies    and    Madri'gals 


AN   EARNEST   SUIT 

TO  HIS   UNKIND  MISTRESS  NOT  TO  FORS.'IKE   HIM. 

[>5J3.'] 

I. 

A  ND  ivilt  tliou  lea-ue  me  thus  ? 
Say  nay,  say  nay,  for  Jhame ! 
To  sn-'ce  thee  from  the  blame 
Of  all  my  grief  and  grame. 
And  ^vilt  thou  lea--oe  me  thus? 
Say  nay,  say  nay ! 


And  -Tvilt  thou  lea-x'e  me  thus  F 
That  hath  loved  thee  so  long. 
In  ^wealth  a7id  auof  a7nong? 
And  is  thy  heart  so  Jlrong 
As  for  to  leave  7ne  thus  Y 
Say  nay,  say  nay ! 


And  'Tvilt  thou  leave  me  thus  ? 
That  hath  given  thee  my  heart. 
Never  for  to  depart  ; 
Neither  for  pain  nor  smart  -. 
And  -ivi/t  thou  leave  me  thus? 
Say  nay,  say  nay! 


And  -zvilt  thou  leave  me  thus? 
And  have  no  more  pity 
Of  him  that  loveth  thee  ? 
Alas,  thy  cruelty ! 
And  vjilt  thou  leave  me  thus  ? 
Say  nay,  say  nay! 

Sir  Thomas  Wyatt. 


A    PRAISE    OF   HIS    LOVE, 

tf^HEREIN  HE    REPROrETH    THEM    THAT   COMPARE    THEIR 

LADIES    IVI-TH    HIS. 

[>555?] 

I. 

G/^£  place,  ye  lovers,  here  before 

That  spent  your  boafls  and  brags  in  vain ; 

My  ladys  beauty  pajfeth  more 

The  bejl  of  yours,  I  dare  n.vell  sayen. 

Than  doth  the  sun  the  candle  light. 

Or  brightejl  day  the  darkeji  night. 


And  thereto  hath  a  troth  as  juft 
As  had  Penelope  the  fair ; 
For  ivhat  jhe'  saith,  ye  may  it  truft. 
As  it  by  ivriting  sealed  ivere : 
And  --virtues  hath  Jhe  many  mo 
Tha7i  I  -Tvith  pen  ha-ue  Jkill  to  P?otv. 


I  could  rehearse,  if  that  I  'would. 
The  --whole  effect  of  Nature" s  plaint. 
When  Jhe  had  loft  the  perfect  mould 
The  like  to  --ivhom  Jhe  could  not  paint : 
With  ^wringing  hands,  ho-iv  Jhe  did  cry. 
And  n.vhat  Jhe  said,  I  knonv  it,  aye. 


I  kno--w  Jhe  snvore  ivith  raging  mind, 
Her  kingdom  only  set  apart. 
There  luas  no  loss  by  la-iv  of  kind 
That  could  ha--ve  gone  so  near  her  heart. 
And  this  n.vas  chiefy  all  her  pain: 
"  She  could  not  make  the  like  again." 


Sith  Nature  thus  gave  hir  the  praise, 
To  he  the  cliiefeft  -xvork  Jhe  xvrought : 
In  faith,  metliink,  some  better  'u.'ays 
On  your  behalf  might  ■ivcll  be  sought, 
Than  to  compare,  as  ye  have  done. 
To  match  the  candle  nvith  the  sun. 

Hf.NI'Y    HdwaRH,    Korl  of  Surrey. 


A    SONNET. 

MADK  ON  ISABELLA  MARKHAM,  If-'HEN  I  FIRST  THOUGHT  HER 
FAIR,  ^S  SHE  STOOD  AT  THE  PRINCESS'S  IVINDOIV  IN  GOOD- 
LY ATTIRE,  AND  TALKED  TO   DIVERS  IN  THE  COURT-rARD. 

[1564.] 
I. 

Whence  comes  my  love?    O  heart,  disclose! 
""Tijuas  from  cheeks  that  Jhamed  the  rose: 
From  lips  that  spoil  the  ruby^s  praise  ^ 
From  eyes  that  mock  the  diamond's  blaze. 
IVhetice  comes  my  ^woe  as  freely  o^vn  ,• 
Ah,  me !   ^t-ivas  from  a  heart  like  flone. 


The  blujhing  cheek  speaks  mode]}  mitid. 
The  lips  befitting  njoords  mojl  kind; 
The  eye  does  tempt  to  love's  defire. 
And  seems  to  say,  "'tis  Cupids  fire : 
Tet  all  so  fair  but  speak  my  7noan, 
Sith  naught  doth  say  the  heart  of  flone. 


Why  thus,  my  love,  so  kind  bespeak 
S-iueet  lip,  s-^eet  eye,  sn.ueet  blujhing  cheek, 
Tet  not  a  heart  to  save  my  pain? 
O  Fenus,  take  thy  gifts  again! 
Make  not  so  fair  to  cause  our  moan. 
Or  make  a  heart  thafs  like  our  o-ivn. 

John   Haringto/ 


A  Dirrr. 

[i5Sor] 
1.   • 

My  true  lot'e  hath  my  heart,  and  1  haue  his, 
By  juji  exchange  one  for  a?iother  given ; 

I  hold  his  dear,  and  mine  he  cannot  miss; 
'There  ne-uer  ivas  a  better  bargain  dri-uen. 
My  true  lo've  hath  my  heart,  and  I  ha--ue  his. 


His  heart  in  me  keeps  him  and  me  in  one; 

My  heart  in  him  his  thoughts  and  senses  guides: 
He  lo--ves  my  heart,  for  once  it  ivas  his  o^ivn ; 
/  cherijh  his,  because  itt  me  it  bides. 

My  true  lo-ve  hath  my  heart,  and  I  ha-ue  his. 

Sir  Philip  Sidney. 


OF   HIS    CTNTHIA. 

[1580?] 

I. 

AtVAY  tvith  these  selflo-ving  lads. 
Whom  Cupid's  arronjo  ne'uer  glads; 
A^way,  poor  souls,  that  figh  and  iveep. 
In  lo've  of  them  that  lie  and  flcep : 
For  Cupid  is  a  merry  god. 
And  jorccth  none  to  kiss  the  rod. 


S-zvect  CupiiVs  flmfts,  like  deftiny. 

Do  causeless.^  good  or  ill  decree : 

Desert  is  borne  out  of  his  bote, 

Re-ivard  upon  hi^  n.ving  doth  go. 

What  fools  are  they  that  ha-ue  7iot  knozvn 
That  lo-ue  likes  no  laivs  but  his  on.v7i ! 


My  songs  they  be  of  Cynthia  s  praise, 
I  ijoear  her  rings  on  holy-days; 
On  e-'uery  tree  I  ^vrite  her  ?iame. 
And  e-uery  day  I  read  the  sa?ne. 

Where  Honour  Cupid^s  ri-val  is. 
There  miracles  are  seen  of  his. 


If  Cynthia  craue  her  ring  of  me, 
I  blot  her  name  (ut  of  the  tree. 
If  doubt  do  darken  things  held  dear. 
Then  ^vellfare  nothing  once  a  year. 
For  many  run,  but  one  mull  -ivin. 
Fools  only  hedge  the  cuckoo  in. 


The  tvortJi  that  ivorthiness  fhould  mo-ue. 

Is  lo~oe,  ivhich  is  the  due  of  lo-ue  j 

And  lo--ve  as  nvell  the  Jhepherd  can. 

As  can  the  mighty  nobleman. 

Snxieet  nymph,  ''tis  true, you  ix-orthy  be. 
Yet  Without  lo-ue,  naught  'zvorth  to  me. 

FuLKE  Greville,  Lord  Brooke. 


SONG. 

['5S4.J 

Cupid  and  my  Campaspe  played 

At  cards  for  kisses,   Cupid  paid; 

He  flakes  his  qui'-uer,  bo^v,  and  arro-ijus. 

His  mother  s  do'-ves,  and  team  of  sparro^vs ; 

Loses  the?n  too ;    then  do-ivn  he  throzvs 

The  coral  of  his  lip,  the  rose 

Gro^wing  ons  cheek,   [but  none  kno-ivs  hoiv) 

With  these  the  cryftal  of  his  bro-TV, 

And  then  the  dimple  of  his  chin ; 

All  these  did  my  Campaspe  nvin. 

At  lafl  he  set  her  both  his  eyes ; 

She  ivon,  and  Cupid  blind  did  rise. 

O  Lo-ue !   has  /he  done  this  to  thee  ? 

What  Jhall,  alas !   become  of  me  r' 

John   Lyly, 


SONG. 

[>584-] 
What  bird  so  fngs,  yet  so  docs  ivail ';" 
0  'tis  the  ra-x'ijhed  nightingale. 
"  Jug,  jug,  jug,  jug,  terue,"  /be  cries, 
And  flill  her  ivoes  at  midnight  rise. 
Bra-ve  prick  son^!   nvho  is't  no-it:  i<.-e  hear  r" 
None  but  the  lark  so  /brill  and  clear; 
No=w  at  hea-uens  gales  /he  claps  her  avtngs, 
The  morn  not  ^waking  till  fl^e  ftngs. 


Hark,  hark,  -ivith  ^>.vhat  a  pretty  throat 
Poor  robin  redbreajl  tunes  his  note; 
Hark,  ho-iu  the  jolly  cuckoos  fmg. 
Cuckoo,  to  ivelcome  in  the  Spring! 
Cuckoo,  to  ivelcome  in  the  Spring! 


John    Iyly 


SONG. 


Pan's  Syrinx  ivas  a  girl  indeed, 
T^hough  noiv  Jhe''s  turned  into  a  reed ; 
From  that  dear  reed  Patis  pipe  does  come, 
A  pipe  that  Jlrikes  Apollo  dumb ; 
Nor  flute,  nor  lute,  nor  gittern  can 
So  chant  it  as  the  pipe  of  Pan. 
Croff-gartered  s-zvains  and  dairy  girls. 
With  faces  smug  and  round  as  pearls. 
When  Pans  fhrill  pipe  begins  to  play. 
With  dancing  i.vear  out  7iight  and  day; 
The  bagpipe's  drone  his  hum  lays  by. 
When  Pa?i  sounds  up  his  ?ninllrelsy. 
His  minftrelsy,   O  base!      This  quill, 
Which  at  my  mouth  'zvith  luind  I  flll. 
Puts  me  in  mind,  though  her  I  miss. 
That  fill  my  Syrinx''  lips  I  kiss. 

John   Lyly. 


MADRIGAL. 

[i;8S.] 

Sleep,  Jleep,  ??iine  only  jervel. 
Much  more  thou  doji  delight  me. 

Than  my  belonjed,  too  cruel. 
That  /lid  her  face  to  spite  me. 

Thou  bring"/!  her  /lome  full  nigh  me. 
While  Jhe  so  fajl  did  fly  me. 
By  thy  means  I  behold  those  eyes  so  Jhining, 
Long  time  absented,  that  noiv  look  appeased ; 

Thus  is  jny  grief  declining : 
Thou  in  my  dreams  do(l  make  defire  -veil  pleased. 
Sleep,  if  thou  be  like  death,  as  thou  art  feigned, 
A  happy  life  by  such  a  death   -ivere  gained. 

Mu'SIC^    TrAns^LI'IN  A. 


MADRICAL. 

[1588.] 

Like  as  from  hea-ven  the  denv  full  softly  /bo-icering, 
Doth  fill  and  so  refrejh  both  fields  and  closes. 

Filling  the  parched  flotvers  with  sap  and  savour; 
So  while  fie  bathed  the  ^violets  and  roses. 

Upon  her  lovely  cheeks  so  frejhly  flowering. 

The  Spring  renewed  his  force  with  her  sweet  favour. 

MUSICA    ThANSAI.I'INA. 


THE    HERDSMAN'S    HAFFV    LIFE. 

[1588.] 

Ji'HAT  pleasure  hai-e  great  princes. 
More  dai7ity  to  their  choice. 

Then  herdsmen  'XvilJ,  -zuho,  careless. 
In  quiet  life  rejoice, 

And  fortune's  fate  not  fearing, 

Sing  STueet  in  summer  morning? 

Their  dealings,  plain  and  rightful. 

Are  --void  of  all  deceit ; 
They  Jie-uer  knon.v  hoiv  spiteful 

It  is  to  kneel  and  luait. 
On  fa-vourite  presumptuous, 
H^hose  pride  is  --vain  and  sumptuous. 

All  day  their  flocks  each  tendeth. 
At  night  they  take  their  reft, 

More  quiet  than  --Mho  sendeth 
His  Jhip  into  the  Eaft, 

Where  gold  and  pearl  are  plenty. 

But  getting  -uery  dainty.  ♦ 

For  la'vyers  and  their  pleading 
They  'jleem  it  not  a  ftra-iv ; 

They  think  that  honeft  meaning 
Is  of  itself  a  la-iv ; 

Where  conscience  judgeth  plainly. 

They  spend  no  money  --vainly 


O  happy  11: ho  thus  liveth ! 

Not  caring  much  for  gold ; 
With  clothing  n.vhich  suffice th 

To  keep  him  from  the  cold: 
Though  poor  and  plain  his  diet. 
Yet  merry  it  is,  and  quiet. 

Byrd's  Songs. 


ROSALIND'S   MADRIGAL. 

[1590-] 


Love  in  my  bosom  like  a  bee 

Doth  suck  his  siveet ; 
No-TV  --with  his  avings  he  plays  -Tvith  me, 

No=tv  'Tuith  his  feet. 
IVithin  mine  eyes  he  makes  his  nejl. 
His  bed  amidfi  my  tender  breaft  ^ 
My  kiffes  are  his  daily  fenft. 
And  yet  he  robs  me  of  my  reft. 

Ah,  ivanton,  n.vill  ye  ? 


And  if  I  Jleep,  then  percheth  he 

With  pretty  flight. 
And  makes  his  pilloni:  of  fny  knee. 

The  live-long  night. 


Strike  I  my  lute,  he  tunes  the  flr'mg; 
He  rniijic  plays  if  I  do  fing  ,• 
He  lends  me  e-uery  lo-uely  thing: 
Yet  cruel  he  my  heart  doth  fling. 
IVhiJi,  ^wanton,  /lill  ye ! 


Else  I  ivith  roses  e-uery  day 

Will  ii^hip  you  hence  ; 
And  bind  you   ^Mhett  you  long  to  play. 

For  your  offence, 
ril  Jhut  mine  eyes  to  keep  you  in, 
ril  make  you  faft  it  for  your  Jin, 
Til  count  your  po-iver  not  ivorth  a  pin  ,• 
Alas,  ^vhat  hereby  fhall  I  ivin. 

If  he  gainsay  me  ? 


What  if  I  beat  the  -Tvanton  boy. 

With  many  a  rod  F 
He  ^uill  repay  me  luith  annoy. 

Because  a  god. 
Then  Jit  thou  safely  on  my  knee. 
And  let  thy  borvcr  my  bosom  be : 
Lurk  in  mine  eyes,  I  like  oj'  thee. 
O  Cupid!   so  thou  pity  me. 

Spare  not,  but  play  thee ! 

Thomas  Lodge. 


THE    SILENT   LOVER. 

[■59° -J 


Passions  are  likened  hejl  to  floods  and  jlreams  ■, 
The  fliallo^M  murmur,  but  the  deep  are  dumb : 

So,  'vohen  affeSlions  yieUi  discourse,  it  seems 
The  bottom  is  but  Jhallo'iv  ^whence  they  come. 

They  that  are  rich  in  n.vords,  in  nvords  disco-uer 

That  they  are  poor  in  that  ^^vhich  makes  a  lover. 


IVrong  not,  s-Tveet  efnpress  of  my  heart. 

The  merit  of  true  pajjion. 
With  thinking  that  he  feels  no  smart. 

That  sues  for  no  compajfion  : 


Since,  if  my  plaints  ser-ve  not  to  approve 

The  conquejl  of  thy  beauty, 
It  comes  not  from  defeSi  of  love. 

But  from  excess  of  duty : 


For,  knoiving  that  I  sue  to  serve 
A  saint  of  such  perfection. 

As  all  defire,  but  none  deserve, 
A  place  in  her  affection. 


/  rather  cfioose  to  -ivant  relief, 
'Than  --venture  the  re-uealing; 

Where  glory  recommends  the  griejy 
Despair  dijlrufts  the  healing. 


Thus  those  defires  that  aim  too  high 

For  any  ?nortal  lo-uer. 
When  reason  can7tot  make  tlietri  die. 

Discretion  doth  thejn  co--ver. 


Tet,  =zvhen  discretion  doth  berea--ve 
The  plaints  that  they  jhould  utter. 

Then  thy  discretion  may  percei-ue 
That  Jilence  is  a  suitor 


Silence  in  lo-x'e  ben.vrays  fnore  n.voe 
Than   -Lvords,  though  ne'er  so  -ivitty ; 

The  beggar  that  is  dumb,  you  kno-iv. 
May  challenge  double  pity! 


Then  ivrong  not,  dearejl  to  my  lie  art. 

My  true,  though  secret  pajjion ; 
He  smarteth  tnoft  that  hides  his  smart, 

A?td  sues  for  no  compaffion. 

S.R    Walter   Raleigh. 


PHILLIDA    AND    CORTDON. 

[i59>-] 
In  the  merrj  77tonth  of  May, 
In  a  fnorn  by  break  of  day, 
With  a  troop  of  damsels  playing. 
Forth  I  yode  forsooth  a  maying. 
When  ano7i  by  a  ^voodfide, 
Where  that  May  ivas  in  his  pride, 
I  espied  all  alone 
Phillida  and  Corydon. 
Much  ado  there  ivas,   God  luot, 
He  ivould  lo've,  and  Jh^ivould  not ; 
She  said,  ne-uer  man  nvas  true ; 
He  says,  7ione  ^vas  false  to  you. 
He  said,  he  had  lo-i'ed  her  long  ,- 
She  says,  lo-jc  jhould  hai-e  7io  ivrong. 
Corydo7i  'Tvould  kiss  her  then  j 
She  says,  7naids  mufl  kiss  no  7nen, 
Till  they  do  for  good  and  all : 
JVhen  Jhe  7nade  the  Jljepherd  call 
All  the  hea--ve7is  to  ivitness  truth, 
Ne-uer  loved  a  truer  youth. 
Then  ivith  7na7iy  a  pretty  oath. 
Tea  and  nay,  and  faith  an, I  troth, 
Such  as  fdly  Jhepherds  use. 
When  they  luill  7iot  lo-ve  abuse, 
Lcve,  that  had  been  lo7ig  deluded. 
Was  luith  kiffes  snveet  co7tcludcd  \ 
And  Phillida,  n.vith  garlands  gay. 
Was  7nade  the  Lady  of  the  May. 

NiCHOLA.     Bitr.TdN. 


A   PASTORAL    OF   PHILLIS  AND    CORYDON. 

;i6oo.] 

On  a  hill  there  gropes  a  Jlonver, 
Fair  befall  the  dainty  s-tueet : 

By  that  Jio-iver  there  is  a  bo-uver 
IVhere  the  hea-venly  Muses  ?neet. 

In  that  bo-Tver  there  is  a  chair. 
Fringed  all  about  nvith  gold, 

IVhere  dot^/it  the  fairefl  fair 
That  e-'oer  eye  did  yet  behold. 

It  is  Phillis,  fair  and  bright. 
She  that  is  the  /hepherd^s  joy: 

She  that  Venus  did  despite. 
And  did  blind  her  little  boy. 

This  is  Jhe,  the  nvise,  the  rich. 
That  the  lAJorld  defires  to  see: 

This  is  ipsa  qua,  the  ^ivhich 
There  is  no7ie  but  only  Jhe. 

Who  ivould  not  this  face  admire  F 
Who  tvould  tiot  this  saint  adore? 

Who  ivould  not  this  fight  defire. 

Though  he  thought  to  see  no  more  F 

O  fair  eyes !    yet  let  me  see 

One  good  look,  and  I  am  gone. 

Look  on  me,  for  I  am  he. 
Thy  poor  filly   Corydon. 


Thou  that  art  the  jhcpherS s  queen. 

Look  upon  thy  filly  s^vain  ; 
By  thy  comfort  ha've  been  seen 

Dead  men  brought  to  life  again. 

Nicholas  Br k. ion. 


SONG. 

['59'  'J 

What  thing  is  lo-ue?  for  sure  lo-ve  is  a  thing-, 

Lo-Tje  is  a  prick,  loue  is  a  fling. 

Love  is  a  pretty,  pretty  thing. 

Love  is  a  fire,  love  is  a  coal, 

IVhose  flame  creeps  in  at  every  hole  ; 

And,  as  myself  can  befl  devise. 

His  d^uelling  is  in  ladies^  ^y^^y 

From  vohence  he  floats  his  dainty  darts 

Into  the  lufly  gallants'"  hearts  -. 

And  ever  fince  voas  called  a  god 

That  Mars  and  Venus  played  even  and  odd. 

GeoRfiK   I'r.Ki  r. 
■♦- 

THE   PASSIONATE   SHEPIIERD    K)    HIS   Loil:. 
[159"] 

Come  live  ivith  me,  and  be  my  love. 
And  voe  nvill  all  the  pleasures  prove. 
That  valleys,  groves,  hills,  and  fields, 
Woods,  or  fleepy  mountains  yields. 


An  J  -ive  -L-iil  Jit  upon  the  rocks. 
Seeing  the  Jhepherds  feed  their  flocks. 
By  JhaU(yiv  riziers,  to  i.vhose  falls 
Melodious  birds  fing  madrigals. 


Aytd  I  -ii'ill  make  thee  beds  of  roses. 
And  a  thousand  fragrant  pofics, 
A  cap  of  flo^vers,  and  a  kirtle 
Embroidered  all  -z'.-ifh  lea-ues  of  myrtle. 


A  go-ivn  made  of  the  finejl  vjool, 
Which  from  our  pretty  lambs  -tvc  pull ; 
Fair-lined  flippers  for  the  cold, 
JVith  buckles  of  the  piirefl  gold. 


A  belt  of  /Ira-n:  and  ii:y-buds. 
With  coral  clasps  and  amber  ftuds. 
And  if  these  pleasures  fnay  thee  mo~jc. 
Come  li-Tje  --ivith  7nc,  and  be  my  lo-je. 


The  /hepherd  s~i.vains  flail  da7ice  and  f:ng 
For  thy  delight  each  May-morning. 
If  these  delights  thy  mind  may  move. 
Then  live  ivith  me,  and  be  my  love. 

Christopher   Marlo.vc. 


A    DIRGE. 


AdieU;  faren.vell  eartli  s  bliss. 
This  ^Morld  uncertain  is: 
Fond  are  ltfe''s  luftful  joys, 
Death  pro'ves  them  all  but  toys. 
None  from  his  darts  can  fy : 
I  am  fick,  I  mujl  die. 

Lord,  hu'ce  mercy  on  us! 


Rick  men,  trtijl  tint  in  ivealth  ; 
Gold  cafinot  buy  you  health ; 
Phyjic  himself  mtiji  fade ; 
All  thitigs  to  end  are  made; 
The  plague  full  s-zuift  goes  by : 
I  am  fick,  I  mull  die. 

Lord,  ha-vc  mercy  on  us ! 


Beauty  is  but  a  fo-ivcr, 
IVhich  lurinkles  nvill  devour: 
Brightness  falls  from  the  air ; 
^lueens  ha-ue  died  young  and  fair 
Du/l  hath  closed  Helen  s  eye  ; 
I  am  fick,   I  7nufl  die. 

Lord,  hci-ve  mercy  on  us! 


Strefigt/i  /hops  unto  the  gra-ise  ,• 
Worms  feed  on  HeSior  brave. 
SivorJs  may  not  fight  -Tvith  fate : 
Earth  Jiill  holds  ope  her  gate. 
Come,  come,  the  hells  do  cry  ; 
/  am  fick,  I  tnufl  die. 

Lord,  ha-ue  tnercy  on  us! 


H'it  -cith  his  --vantonness 
Tafleth  death^s  bitterness. 
Heirs  executioner 
Hath  no  ears  for  to  hear 
li'hat  vain  art  can  reply, 
I  am  ftck,  I  mufl  die. 

Lord,  have  mercy  on  us! 


Hafte  therefore  each  degree 
To  ^welcome  dejiiny : 
Heaven  is  our  heritage. 
Earth  but  a  players  flage. 
Mount  n.ve  unto  the  fky ; 
I  am  fick,  I  mufl  die. 

Lord,  have  mercy  on  us' 

Thomas   Nash. 


SONG. 

['59i-] 

Spring,  the  szveet  Spring,  is  the  year  s  pleasant  King; 
Then  blooms  each  thing,  then  maids  dance  in  a  ring; 
Cold  doth  not  fling,  the  pretty  birds  do  fing. 
Cuckoo,  jug,  jug,  pu  ive,  to  ivitta  •zvoo. 

The  palm  and  May  make  country  houses  gay. 
Lambs  frijk  and  play,  the  Jhepherds  pipe  all  day. 
And  ^ve  hear  aye  birds  tune  this  merry  lay. 
Cuckoo,  jug,  jug,  pu  ive,  to  ivitta  tvoo. 

The  fields  breathe  stueet,  the  daifies  kiss  our  feet. 
Young  lowers  meet,  old  ivi--ues  a  sunning  fit. 
In  e^uery  flreet  these  tunes  our  ears  do  greet. 
Cuckoo,  jug,  jug,  pu  ive,  to  ^witta  auoo. 
Spring,  the  s^weet  Spring. 

Thomas  Nash. 


PHILOMELA'S    ODE 

THAT    SHE     SUNG     IN     HER     ARBOUR. 

[>;9^.] 

Sitting  by  a  ri'vers  fide. 
Where  a  fdent  jlream  did  glide. 
Muse  I  did  of  many  things. 
That  the  mind  in  quiet  brings. 
I  'ga7i  think  hoiu  sofne  men  dee?n 
Gold  their  god;    and  some  efleern 


Honour  is  the  chief  content 
That  to  man  in  life  is  lent. 
Ami  some  others  do  contend, 
S>uiet  none,  like  to  a  friend. 
Others  hold,  there  is  no  avealth 
Compared  to  a  perfe£l  health. 
Sotne  mans  mind  in  quiet  J}a?ids, 
When  he  is  lord  of  many  lands : 
But  I  did  figh,  and  said  all  this 
JVas  but  a  fhade  of  perfeEl  bliss  j 
And  in  my  thoughts  I  did  approz-e. 
Naught  so  STveet  as  is  true  lo-x'c. 
Lo-ue  ''t-Tvixt  lowers  paffeth  these. 
When  mouth  kiffeth,  and  heart  'grces. 
With  folded  arms  and  lips  meeting. 
Each  soul  another  smoectly  greeting; 
For  by  the  breath  the  soul  fleet eth, 
A7id  soul  -ivith  soul  in  kijjing  meet  eth. 
If  lo-~je  be  so  siveet  a  thing. 
That  such  happy  bliss  doth  brifig, 
Happy  is  lo-ve''s  sugared  thrall. 
But  unhappy  maidens  all. 
Who  efleem  your  'virgin  blijfes 
S-Tveeter  than  a  n-vife's  s-tveet  kijfes. 
No  such  quiet  to  the  mind. 
As  true  lo've  nxiith  kiffes  kind: 
But  if  a  kiss  pro-ue  uncliafte. 
Then  is  true  lo-ue  quite  disgraced. 
Though  lo'ue  be  s-xi:eet,  learn  this  vf  me. 
No  STveet  lo-ve  but  honefly. 

Ro3ERT  Greens. 


L' 59^.1 
On    a  day,   [alack  the  day!) 
Lo-ve,  ivhose  motith  is  ever  May, 
Spied  a  blojfom,  pajjing  fair, 
Playi?ig  ifi  the  nvanton  air: 
Through  the  --jel-uet  leaves  the  ^.vind. 
All  unseen,  ^gan  pajfage  find  j 
That  the  lover,  fick  to  death, 
Wijhed  himself  the  heaven  s  breath. 
Air,  quoth  he,  thy  cheeks  may  blo-.v. 
Air,  ivould  I  ?night  triiwiph  so ! 
But,  alack,  my  hand  is  s-zvorn 
Ne^cr  to  pluck  thee  from  thy  thorn : 
Fozv,  alack,  for  youth  unmeet ; 
Youth,  so  apt  to  pluck  a  siveet. 
Do  not  call  it  fin  in  me. 
That  I  am  fors-ivorn  for  thee  .• 
Thou  for  vuhom  Jove  vjould  sivear 
Juno  but  an  Ethiope  n.vere ; 
And  deny  himself  for  Jove, 
Turning  mortal  for  thy  love. 

William   SiiAKESPrARiv 


I '594-] 
OrER  hill,  over  dale. 

Thorough  bufij,  thorough  brier, 
O-ver  park,  over  pale. 

Thorough  flood,  th'jrough  fire, 


/  do  nvander  enjery-ivhere, 

S'lvi/ter  than  the  moons  sphere: 

And  I  ser^e  the  fairy  queen. 

To  de'xu  her  orbs  upon  the  green. 

The  co'-ivjlips  tall  her  penfioners  he; 

In  their  gold  coats  spots  you  see. 

Those  be  rubies,  fairy  fa'vours. 

In  those  freckles  live  their  sat'ours. 
I  must  go  seek  some  de-zv-drops  here. 
And  hang  a  pearl  in  e-very  coi.v/lip"s  ear. 

William   Shakespeare. 


SONG. 

['597.] 

Tell  me  nxihere  is  fancy  bred. 
Or  in  the  heart,  or  in  the  head? 
Hoiu  begot,  hoiv  nouriflted? 
Reply,   reply. 

It  is  engendered  in  the  eyes. 
With  gazing  fed :    and  fancy  dies 
In  the  cradle  ^Mhere  it  lies : 
Let  us  all  ring  fancy'' s  knell ; 
ril  begin  it, — Ding,  dofig,  bell. 
Ding,  dotig,  bell. 

William   SHAkF.fPEARE. 


L>S9^.] 
On   a  dajy   [alack  the  day!) 
Lo-ue,  ivhose  month  is  euer  May, 
Spied  a  blojfom,  pajfing  fair, 
Playing  in  the  ivanton  air: 
Through  the  njel-vet  lea-x'es  the  ^<vind. 
All  unseen,  ^gan  pajage  find; 
That  the  lover,  Jick  to  death, 
IVifhed  himself  the  hea'vens  breath. 
Air,  quoth  he,  thy  cheeks  may  blon.v ; 
Air,  ivould  I  might  triumph  so! 
But,  alack,  my  hand  is  s-xvorn 
Ne'er  to  pluck  thee  from  thy  thorn  .- 
Vovj,  alack,  for  youth  unmeet  ; 
Youth,  so  apt  to  pluck  a  stveet.    . 
Do  not  call  it  Jin  in  me. 
That  I  am  fors'worn  for  thee  : 
Thou  for  nvhom  fonje  n.vould  sivear 
Juno  but  ail  Ethiope  iverc ; 
And  deny  himself  for  Jo-ve, 
Turning  mortal  for  thy  lo-ue. 

William   SHAKFspr.AR;-: 


['594.] 
Oi^F.R  hill,  over  dale. 

Thorough  bujh,  thorough  brier. 
Over  park,  over  pale. 

Thorough  flood,  thorough  fire. 


/  do  tvander  e'veryn.vhere, 

S-wifter  than  the  moons  sphere: 

And  I  ser-ve  the  fairy  queen, 

To  de-iu  her  orbs  upon  the  green. 

The  co-ivjlips  tall  her  penfioners  be-., 

In  their  gold  coats  spots  you  see. 

Those  be  rubies,  fairy  fa'vours. 

In  those  freckles  li-ue  their  savours. 
I  must  go  seek  some  de^v-drops  here. 
And  hang  a  pearl  in  euery  co^vjlip^s  ear. 

William  ShaIcespeare. 


SONG. 

[-597.] 

Tell  me  ivhere  is  fancy  bred. 
Or  in  the  heart,  or  in  the  head? 
HoTv  begot,  ho-Tv  nourijhed? 
Reply,   reply. 

It  is  engendered  in  the  eyes. 
With  gazing  fed :    and  fancy  dies 
In  the  cradle  nvhere  it  lies: 
Let  us  all  ring  fancy" s  knell ; 
ril  begin  it, — Ding,  dong,  hell. 
Ding,  dong,  hell. 

William   Shakespfare. 


SONG. 

[>59i-] 

Spring,  the  s~u:ect  Spring,  is  the  year  s  pleasant  King; 
Then  blooms  each  thing,  then  maids  dance  in  a  ring; 
Cold  doth  not  fling,  the  pretty  birds  do  feng. 
Cuckoo,  jug,  jug,  pii  ive,  to  nvitta  nvoo. 

The  palm  and  May  make  country  houses  gay. 
Lambs  frijk  and  play,  the  jhepherds  pipe  all  day. 
And  n.ve  hear  aye  birds  tune  this  merry  lay. 
Cuckoo,  jug,  jug,  pu  nve,  to  nvitta  "zvoo. 

The  fields  breathe  snjjeet,  the  daifics  kiss  our  feet, 

Toung  lo'vers  meet,  old  ivi-ues  a  sunning  ft. 

In  e-uety  flreet  these  tunes  our  ears  do  greet. 

Cuckoo,  jug,  jug,  pu  nve,  to  nvitta  hmoo. 

Spring,  the  snveet  Spring. 

Thomas   Nash. 


PHILOMELA'S    ODE 

THAT    S  H  i:    SUNG    IN    HER    ARBOUR. 

[159'-] 

Sitting  by  a  riuers  fide. 
Where  a  /dent  ftream  did  glide. 
Muse  I  did  of  many  things. 
That  the  mind  in  quiet  brings. 
I  ^gan  think  hon.v  some  men  deeyn 
Gold  their  god;    and  some  ejleem 


Honour  is  the  chief  content 
That  to  man  in  life  is  lent. 
And  some  others  do  contend, 
^iet  none,  like  to  a  friend. 
Others  hold,  there  is  no  ^wealth 
Compared  to  a  perfect  health. 
Some  mans  mind  in  quiet  /lands, 
lf7ien  he  is  lord  of  many  lands : 
But  I  did  figh,  and  said  all  this 
IVas  but  a  Jhade  of  pcrfcSl  bliss  j 
And  in  my  thoughts  I  did  cppro-~cc. 
Naught  so  siveet  as  is  true  lo-ue. 
Loue  't'wixt  lo~<jers  pajfeth  these. 
When  mouth  kijfeth,  and  heart  Agrees, 
With  folded  arms  and  lips  meeting. 
Each  soul  a7iother  snveetly  greeting ; 
For  by  the  breath  the  soul  fleeteth. 
And  soul  nvith  soul  in  kiffmg  meeteth. 
If  lo'-ve  be  so  s-tveet  a  thing. 
That  such  happy  bliss  doth  bring, 
Happy  is  lo'ce's  sugared  thrall. 
But  unhappy  maidens  all. 
Who  ejieem  your  ^virgin  bliffes 
S-iveeter  than  a  nvife's  s-zveet  kijfes. 
No  such  quiet  to  the  mind. 
As  true  loue  ^uoith  kijfes  kind: 
But  if  a  kiss  pro-ve  unchafte. 
Then  is  true  love  quite  disgraced. 
Though  lo'oe  be  s^voeet,  learn  this  cf  me. 
No  s-weet  loue  but  honejly. 

Robert  Greene. 


A    DIRGE. 

['591- J 


Adieu,-  faren.vell  earth" s  hius. 
This  'world  uncertairi  is: 
Fond  are  lifers  lujiful  joys. 
Death  proves  them  all  hut  toys. 
None  from  his  darts  can  fly : 
I  am  fick,  I  Tfiuf}  die. 

Lord,  ha-ve  mercy  on  us! 


Rich  men,  tru/l  not  in  ^.vcalth ; 
Gold  ca7inot  buy  you  health  ; 
Phyfic  himself  mujl  fade  ,• 
All  things  to  end  are  made; 
The  plague  full  savift  goes  by : 
I  a>n  fick,  I  lyiufl  die. 

Lord,  ha-ve  fnercy  an  us ! 


Beauty  is  but  a  florver, 
IVhich  tvrinkles  'will  devour: 
Brightness  falls  from  the  air  ; 
Queens  have  died  young  and  fair 
Dufl  hath  closed  Helen  s  eye : 
I  am  Jick,  I  muJl  die. 

Lord,  ha-ve  mercy  on  us! 


Strength  ftoops  unto  the  gra-'cc  j 
Worms  feed  on  HeSlor  bra've. 
Szuonis  may  not  fight  ivith  fate : 
Earth  Jlill  holds  ope  her  gate. 
Come,  come,  the  hells  do  cry  ; 
/  am  fick,  I  muft  die.  ► 

Lord,  haue  mercy  on  us ! 


If'it  -Tvith  his  -zuantonness 
Ta/Ieth  deafh^s  bitterness. 
Heirs  executioner 
Hath  no  ears  for  to  hear 
What  ^oain  art  can  reply ; 
I  am  fick,   I  mufi  die. 

Lord,  hax'e  mercy  oti  us . 


Hajle  therefore  each  degree 
To  nx>elcome  defliny : 
Heaven  is  our  heritage. 
Earth  but  a  player  s  ftage. 
Mount  nve  unto  the  fliy ; 
I  am  fick,  I  muft  die. 

Lord,  haue  mercy  on  us  ' 

Thomas  Nash. 


Thou  that  art  the  jhepherd' s  ijueen. 

Look  upon  thy  filly  s-ivain  ; 
By  thy  comfort  hanjc  been  seen 

Dead  men  brought  to  life  again. 

Nicholas   Brkion. 


SONG. 

[159'  ?] 

IV HAT  tiling  is  lonje?  for  sure  lo-'ce  is  a  thing \ 

Lo'ue  is  a  prick,  lo-ue  is  a  fling, 

Lo--ve  is  a  pretty,  pretty  thing, 

Lonje  is  a  fire,  lo-ue  is  a  coal. 

Whose  flame  creeps  in  at  e-uery  hole ; 

And,  as  myself  can  bejl  det'ise. 

His  divelling  is  in  ladies'  eyes. 

From  ivhence  he  Jhoots  his  dainty  darts 

Into  the  lufty  gallants'  hearts : 

And  ever  fincc  ^Mas  called  a  god 

That  Mars  and  Venus  played  even  and  odd. 

Georgk   Peki  k. 


THE   PASSIONATE  SHEPHERD    TO    HIS   LOIE. 

[i5';>'] 
I. 
COMF.  live  ^Mith  me,  and  be  my  love. 
And  njue  nvill  all  the  pleasures  prove. 
That  njalleys,  groves,  hills,  and  fields, 
JVoods,  or  fteepy  mountains  yields. 


And  zue  -Tuili  jit  upon  the  rocks. 
Seeing  the  Jhepherds  feed  their  jlocks. 
By  Jhallo^v  ri-vers,  to  auhose  falls 
Melodious  birds  Jifig  madrigals. 


And  I  TL-ill  make  thee  beds  of  roses. 
And  a  thousand  fragrant  pojies, 
A  cap  of  Jio-ivers,  and  a  kirtle 
Embroidered  all  tvith  leases  of  myrtle. 


A  go-iun  made  of  the  finejl  -tl-ooI, 
IVhich  from  our  pretty  lambs  ive  pull; 
Fair-lined  Jlippers  for  the  cold, 
With  buckles  of  the  purejl  gold.        , 


.i  belt  of  j}ra~M  and  ivy-buds, 
With  coral  clasps  and  amber  ftuds. 
And  if  these  pleasures  may  thee  inoxx. 
Come  live  -with  7ne,  and  be  my  lo-ve. 


The  jhepherd  s-ivains  Jhall  dance  and  f.ng 
For  thy  delight  each  May-morning. 
If  these  delights  thy  mind  may  mo^ce. 
Then  li-ve  zvith  me,  and  be  my  lo-ve. 

Christopher   Marlowe. 


MADRIGAL. 

Ladt^  jour  ivords  do  spite  me. 

Vet,  your  s-xveet  lips  so  soft  kiss  and  delight  me; 

I'our  deeds  my  heart  surcharged  ivith  O'verjoying, 

Your  taunts  my  life  deflroyitig; 

Since  both  ha-ue  force  to  kill  me. 

Let  kijfes  s-iueet,  siueet  kill  me! 

Knights  fight  nvith  stvords  and  lances. 

Fight  you  ^uith  smiling  glances  ; 

So,  like  S'Tvans  of  Meander, 

My  ghofl  from  hence  /hall  ivander, 

Singing  and  dying,  finging  and  dying. 

Wilbye's  Madrigals. 


MADRIGAL. 

(ISVS.J 

LyiDY,  n.vhen  I  behold  the  roses  sprouting, 

Which  clad  in  damajk  mantles  deck  the  arbours. 

And  then  behold  your  lips,  'Xuhere  stveet  lo-ve  harbours 

My  eyes  present  me  luith  a  double  doubting ; 

For  uieiving  both  alike,  hardly  my  mind  supposes, 

IVIiether  the  roses  be  your  lips,  or  your  lips  the  rnsrs. 

Wubve's  Madrigals. 


MADRIGAL. 

[1598.] 

LorE  me  not  for  comely  grace. 

For  my  pleajhig  eye  or  face  ; 

Not  for  any  outivard  part. 

No,  nor  for  my  conftant  heart ; 

For  these  may  fail,  or  turn  to  ill. 

And  thus  nve  lo-ue  /hall  se-uer : 

Keep,  therefore,  a  true  ivomans  eye. 

And  lo'ue  me  ftill. 

Yet  hnonjj  not  ivhy ; 

So  hajl  thou  the  same  reason  fill. 

To  dote  upoTi  me  euer. 

Wilbye's   Madrigals. 


MADRIGAL. 

[1598.J 

There  is  a  jeix'el  ivhich  no  Indian  mine  can  buy. 

No  chemic  art  can  counterfeit ; 

It  makes  men  rich  in  greateji  poverty. 

Makes  ivater  ivine,  turns  nxiooden  cups  to  gold, 

The  homely  -ivhijlle  to  stveet  mufus  Jlrain  j 

Seldom  it  comes,  to  fe^iv  from  heanjen  sent. 

That  much  in  little,  all  in  naught — Content. 

Wilbye's  Madrjgals. 
54 


MADRIGAL. 
[1598.] 
Change  me,   O  Hea-veti !   into  the  ruhy  Jlone 
That  on  my  lo'-ve's  fair  locks  doth  hang  in  gold, 
Tet  leaue  me  speech  to  her  to  f?iake  my  moan, 
And  gi've  me  eyes  her  beauty  to  behold: 
Or  if  you  mjill  not  make  my  flejh  a  flone. 
Make  her  hard  heart  seem  flefi,  that  no^v  is  none. 

Wilbye's  Madrigals. 


SPRING-SONG. 

[1598.] 

I. 

In  pride  of  May 
The  fields  are  gay. 

The  birds  do  snveetly  fmg ; 
So  Nature  ^vould 
That  all  things  Jhould 

IVith  joy  begin  the  Spring. 


Then,  lady  dear. 

Do  you  appear. 
In  beauty  like  the  Spring; 

I  dare  nuell  say. 

The  birds  that  day. 
More  cheerfully  nvill  fing. 

Wkei.kes's   Bm.lads   and   Mm)RI(.AI. 


AN    ODE. 

I159S.; 

As  it  fell  upon  a  day, 

hi  the  merry  month  of  May, 

Sitting  in  a  pleasant  Jhade, 

Which  a  gro-'ce  of  myrtles  made, 

Beajls  did  leap,  and  birds  did  fing, 

"Trees  did  gro--iv,  and  plants  did  spring, 

E-uery  thing  did  hanijh  moan, 

Sa--ue  the  nightingale  alone: 

She,  poor  bird,  as  all  forlorn. 

Leaned  her  breafi  up-till  a  thorn. 

And  there  sang  the  doleful  Til  ditty. 

That  to  hear  it  'Xvas  great  pity. 

Fie,  fie,  fie,  noiv  Jhe  '-uould  cry, 

Teru,  teru,  by  and  by ; 

That  to  hear  her  so  complain. 

Scarce  I  could  from  tears  refrain ; 

For  her  griefs,  so  li-uely  fho-~vn, 

Made  me  think  upon  mine  o-Tvn. 

Ah  I    thought  J,  thou  ?nourn"ll  in  'Z'ain  j 

None  take  pity  on  thy  pain ; 

Senseless  trees,  they  cannot  hear  thee. 

Ruthless  bears,  they  'zuill  not  cheer  thee ; 

King  Pandion,  he  is  dead; 

All  thy  friends  are  lapped  in  lead; 

All  thy  fello^M-birds  do  fing, 

Careless  of  thy  sorro-zvi?ig. 

E-ven  so,  poor  bird,  like  thee. 

None  ali--ve  h/jiU  pity  me. 


Whiljl  as  Jickle  Fortune  S7niled, 

Thou  and  I  ivere  both  beguiled, 

Euery  one  that  flatters  thee. 

Is  no  friend  of  7nisery. 

Words  are  easy,  like  the  ivind ; 

Faithful  friends  are  hard  to  find. 

L-very  fnau  nuill  be  thy  friend, 

Wheri  thou  haft  -i.vhere~Lvith  to  spend: 

But  if  ftore  of  cro-xvns  be  scant. 

No  7nan  n.vill  supply  thy  ^vant. 

If  that  one  be  prodigal. 

Bountiful  they  ivill  him  call; 

And  ^Lvith  such-like  flattering, 

"  Pity  but  he  ivere  a  king." 

If  he  be  addiSl  to  vice, 

f^uickly  him  they  ivill  entice: 

If  to  nvomen  he  be  bent. 

They  have  him  at  commandenient ; 

But  if  Fortune  once  do  fro-ivn. 

Then  fare-ivell  his  great  reno-xcn : 

They  that  fa--vned  on  him  before, 

Use  his  cojnpany  no  more. 

He  that  is  thy  friend  indeed. 

He  nvill  help  thee  in  thy  need ; 

If  thou  sorrozu,  he  nvill  iveep, 

If  thou  ivake,  he  cannot  fleep  : 

Thus  of  every  grief  in  heart 

He  ivith  thee  doth  bear  a  part. 

These  are  certain  flgns  to  knoiv 

Faithful  friend  from  flattering  foe. 

RitHAHi'   Bakntkikih. 


SONG. 

['599-1 


ylRT  thou  poor,  yet  hajl  thou  golden  Jlumhers? 

O  s-Tveet  content! 
Art  thou  rich,  yet  is  thy  minJ  perplexed  ? 

O  punifhrnent  I 
Dolt  thou  laugh  to  see  honv  fools  are  'vexed 
To  add  to  golden  numbers,  golden  tiumbcrs  F 
O  s-iveet  content!    O  suweet,   O  saveet  content! 
IVork  apace,  apace,  apace,  apace, 
Honeji  labour  bears  a  lo'-vely  face; 
Then  hey  nonny,  nonny,  hey  nonny,  nonny ! 


Canjl  drink  the  ivaters  of  the  crisped  spring  ? 

O  s-iveet  content! 
Sucimmyi  thou  in  ivealth,  yet  fitiFjl  in  thine  oxun  tears F 

O  punijhment ! 
Then  he  that  patiently  tvanfs  burden  bears 
No  burden  bears,  but  is  a  king,  a  king! 
O  STveet  co7itent!    O  s'lveet,   O  siueet  content! 
JVork  apace,  apace,  apace,  apace, 
Honeft  labour  bears  a  lo-vely  face : 
Then  hey  nonny,  nonny,  hey  nonny,   nonny! 

Thomas  Dekker. 


ro    THE    SPRING. 

['599-] 


Earth  wotc  is  green,  a7id  hea--ven  is  blue, 
Li--vely  Sprifig,  ^which  makes  all  neixi. 
Jolly  Sprifig  doth  enter; 
S'-weet  yoimg  sunbeams  do  subdue 
Angry,  aged  Winter. 


Blafts  are  mild,  and  seas  are  calm, 
E-very  meadoiv  floivs  ivith  hahn. 
The  Earth  nvears  all  her  riches : 
Harmonious  birds  fing  such  a  psalm 
As  ear  and  heart  beivitches. 


Reser've,  s^veet  Spring,  this  nymph  of  ours. 

Eternal  garlands  of  thy  flo^vers. 

Green  garlands,  iieuer  ^vafting; 

In  her  (hall  laft  our  State'' s  fair  spring, 

Noi,v  and  forever  fnuriflnng. 

As  long  as  hea-uen  is  lafting. 

SiK      [ollN     DaVI».S. 


V) 


IHE    cor    MAIDEN-S    CONSENT. 

[I599-J 
I. 

O  sT^r,  s-iveet  lo-ve,  see  here  the  place  of  sporting. 
These  gentle  Jlonvers  smile  snxjeetly  to  in'vite  us ; 

And  chirping  birds  are  hither-xvards  resorting, 
IVarblifjg  s-iueet  notes  only  to  delight  us. 

Then  /lay,  dear  lo-ue,  for  though  thou  run  fro/n  mc. 

Run  ne'er  so  faft,  yet  I  -tvHI  fulloxv  thee. 


I  thought,  7ny  Io-tjc,  that  I  Jhould  o-uertake  you ; 

Sxveet  heart,  ft  donvn  under  this  Jhadoxved  tree, 
And  I  xvill  promise  neuer  to  forsake  you. 

So  you  ivill  grant  to  ?ne  a  lo--ver''s  fee. 
Whereat  /he  smiled,  and  kindly  to  me  said, 
I  never  meant  to  live  and  die  a  maid. 

Farmer's   English    Maprigals. 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    PHIJ.I.IS. 

[•S99-] 
FjIIR   Phillis  I  saiv  fitting  all  alone. 

Feeding  her  flock  near  to  the  mountain  fide ; 
The  Jhepherds  kne^v  not  njohither  Jhe  n.vas  gone. 

But  after  her  her  lover,  Amyntas,  hied. 
He  nvandered  up  and  doivn  ■n.vhilfl  fl^e  v.-as  mifing : 
When  he  found  her,  then  they  fell  a-kiffmg. 

Farmtr's  English   Madrigals. 


DAMELUS'    SONG    TO    HIS   DIAPHENIA. 

r  1600. 1 


DiAPHENiA,  like  the  daffadonvndilly. 
White  as  the  sun,  fair  as  the  lily. 

Heigh  ho,  ho-iv  I  do  lo'ue  thee! 
I  do  lo-ue  thee  as  my  lambs 
Are  belo-jjed  of  their  dams ; 

HoTv  blejl  'were  I  if  thou  ^vouldji  pro-ue  me ! 


Diaphenia,  like  the  spreading  roses. 
That  in  thy  siveets  all  s^weets  encloses. 

Fair  siveet,  hotv  I  do  lo-ue  thee  I 
I  do  lo-ue  thee  as  each  foaver 
Lo'ues  the  suns  life-gi-uing  poiver ; 

For  dead,  thy  breath  to  life  ?night  mo've  me. 


Diaphenia,  like  to  all  tilings  hlcffcd, 
When  all  thy  praises  are  exprefed. 

Dear  joy,  hon.v  I  do  love  thee ! 
As  the  birds  do  lo-ve  the  Spring, 
Or  the  bees  their  careful  king; 

Then  in  requite,  s-iveet  'virgin,  lo-ve  mi! 

Henry   C'oNSTAiii.r.. 


THE    NTMPHS, 

MEETING    THEIR    MAT   QUEEN,    ENTERTAIN   HER    WITH    THIS 

DITTY. 

[1600.] 


With  fragrant  flonvers  -ive  streiv  the  nvay. 
And  make  this  our  chief  holy-day. 
For  though  this  clime  -Lvere  blejl  of  yore, 
Tet  'was  it  ne-uer  proud  before. 

O  beauteous  queen  of  second   Troy, 

Accept  of  our  unfeigned  joy. 


No-TV  th"  air  is  s-tveeter  than  s-tveet  balm, 
And  satyrs  dance  about  the  palm ; 
Noni)  Earth  ixnth  ^verdure  neivly  dight 
Gi-ues  perfeB  signs  of  her  delight. 

O  beauteous  queen  of  second  Troy, 
Accept  of  our  uffeigtied  joy. 


No-TV  birds  record  ne-TV  harmony. 
And  trees  do  -TvhijUe  melody ; 
NoTV  e-very  thing  that  Nature  breeds. 
Doth  clad  itself  in  pleasant  nveeds. 

O  beauteous  queen  of  second  Troy, 

Accept  of  our  unfeigned  joy. 

Thomas  Watson. 


FALSE    DOR  US. 

[1600.] 

In  deiv  of  roses  Jleeping 
Her  lonely  cheeks,   Lycoris  sat  iveeping : 
Ah,   Dorus  false !   thou  haft  my  heart  bereft  ?ne. 
And  fio^v,   unkind,  haft  left  vie. 
Hear,  alas  !    O  hear  me  ! 

Ay  me !   ay  ?ne  I 
Cattnot  my  beauty  monje  thee  ? 
Pity,  then,  pity  me. 
Because  I  lo've  thee. 
Ay  me !   thou  scortt  ^ft  the  more  I  pray  thee, 
And  this  thou  doft  to  Jlay  me. 
Ah,  do,  then,  do,  kill  me  and  'uaunt  thee  ^ 
J'et  my  ghojl  fill  fall  haunt  thee. 

Morley's  Madrigals 


INVOCAriON    TO    NIGHT. 

[1600.] 


Come,  you  heaxy  fates  of  night. 
Do  my  father  s  spirit  right. 
Soundings  baleful  let  me  borro^v, 
Burthening  my  song  nvith  sorroiv. 
Co77ie,  sorro'vo,  come ;    her  eyes  that  fings 
By  thee  are  turned  into  springs. 


Come,  you   -I'irgins  of  the  nig/it, 
That  in  dirges  sad  delight, 
^luire  my  a?ithems ;    /  do  borrozv 
Gold  nor  pearl,  but  sounds  of  sorronx:. 
Come,  sorronv,  come ;    her  eyes  that  fngs 
By  thee  are  turned  into  springs. 

Dowland's   Book  of  Songs. 


TO    CYNTHIA. 

[1600.] 


Mr  thoughts  are  ivinged  -..vith  hopes,  my  hopes  -zvith  lo-zre. 
Mount,  lo-ve,  unto  the  moon  in  cleareji  night. 

And  say,  as  fhe  doth  in  the  hea--uens  mo=ve. 
In  earth  so  ^vanes  and  'waxes  my  delight. 

And  -cvhisper  this,  but  softly  in  her  ears, 

Hope  oft  doth  hang  the  head,  and  trujl  Jhed  tears. 


And  you,  my  thoughts,  that  some  mijlruj}  do  carry. 
If  for  miflrujl  my  miftress  you  do  blame. 

Say,  though  you  alter,  yet  you  do  not  njary. 
As  fhe  doth  change,  and  yet  remain  the  same. 

Di/lrufl  doth  enter  hearts,  but  not  infed. 

And  lo-ue  is  snxieetefl  seasoned  -xvith  suspedl. 


If  Jhe  for  this  nvith  clouds  do  majli  her  eyes. 
And  make  the  hea-uens  dark  -Tvith  her  disdain, 

With  ivindy  figlis  disperse  them  in  the  Ikies, 
Or  nuith  thy  tears  diffol-t'e  them  into  rain. 

Thoughts,  hopes,  and  lo--ve  return  to  me  no  more. 

Till  Cynthia  Jhine  as  /he  hath  done  before. 

Dowlamd's  Book  of  Songs. 


HIS    LADl'^S    GRIEF. 

[1600.] 


/  S^iv  my  lady  iveep, 

And  sorro--w  proud  to  be  advanced  so 
In  those  fair  eyes,  -ivhere  all  perfeStions  keep. 

Her  face  nvas  full  of  nvoe. 
But  such  a  nvoe,  belie-Tje  me,  as  ivins  more  hearts. 
Then  mirth  can  do  avith  her  enticing  parts. 


Sorronv  nvas  there  made  fair, 

And  paj/ion  nvise,  tears  a  delightful  thing, 
Silence  beyond  all  speech  a  nvisdom  rare; 

She  Tnade  her  fighs  to  fing. 
And  all  things  nvith  so  snveet  a  sadness  move. 
As  made  my  heart  at  once  both  grieve  and  love. 


4! 


0/  fairer  than  aught  else 

The  ivorld  can  Jhoiv,  lea-ce  off  in  time  to  grieve 
Enough,  enough,  your  joyful  look  excels : 

Tears  kill  the  heart,  believe. 
O,  Jlri'-ve  not  to  be  excellent  in  n.voe. 
Which  only  breeds  your  beauties"  o-verthronv . 

Dowland's  Book   of  Songs. 


MADRIGAL. 
[1600.] 


Ji'Hr  are  you,  ladies,  flaying. 
And  your  lords  gone  a-Maying : 
Run  apace  and  meet  them. 
And  ivith  your  garlatids  greet  them  ; 
''T-ivere  pity  they  Jhould  tntss  you. 
For  they  ^vill  s-iveetly  kiss  you. 


Hark,  hark,  I  hear  the  daticing. 
And  a  nimble  morris  prancing; 
The  bagpipe  and  the  morris  bells. 
That  they  are  not  far  hence  us  tells : 
Come,  let  us  all  go  thither. 
And  dance  like  friends  together. 

Weelkes's  Madrigals 


MADRIGAL. 

[1600.] 

Cold  tuinter's  ice  is  fled  a?id  gone. 

And  summer  hangs  on  e-very  tree  ; 

The  redbreajl  peeps  amidji  the  throng 

Of  ^vood-born  birds  that  n.vanton  be  : 
Each  one  forgets  nvhat  they  haue  been. 
And  so  doth   Phillis,  sumfner^s  queen. 

Weelkes's  Madrigals. 


OF    CORINNA'S    SINGING. 
[1602.] 
I. 
H'hen  to  her  lute  Corinna  fings. 
Her  --voice  re-ui-ves  the  leaden  firings. 
And  doth  in  highe/l  notes  appear. 
As  any  challe?iged  echo  clear: 
But  luhen  Jhe  doth  of  mourning  speak, 
E-uen  nxjith  her  Jighs  the  firings  do  break. 


And  as  her  lute  doth  live  or  die. 

Led  by  her  pajjions,  so  mujl  I : 

For  nvhen  of  pleasure  fhe  doth  fing. 

My  thoughts  enjoy  a  sudden  spring: 

But  if  jhe  do  of  sorro^v  speak, 

Enjen  from  my  heart  the  firings  do  break. 

Th(imas  C'ami'ion. 


MADRIGAL 

[1601.] 


GiyR    Beauty  all  her  right. 

She's  not  to  one  form  tied  ,• 
Each  Jhape  yields  fair  delight, 
Where  her  perfeSlions  bide: 
Helen,   I  grant,  tnight  pleajing  be. 
And  Rosamond  -xvas  as  s-iveet  as  /be. 


Some  the  quick  eye  commends. 

Some  sn.velling  lips,  and  red; 
Pale  looks  ha=ve  many  friends. 
Through  sacred  s-xveetness  bred. 
Meadoivs  haue  foivers  that  pleasure  mo-ue. 
Though  roses  are  the  floivers  of  lo-X'e. 


True  Beauty  is  not  bound 
To  one  unmoued  clime : 
She  'uijits  e-uery  ground. 
And  favours  every  time. 
Let  the  old  loves  luith  mine  compare. 
My  sovereign  is  as  siueet  and  fair. 

Thomas   Campion. 


A    SONG. 

Iff    PRAISE     OF    A    BEGGAR'S    LIFE. 

[1602.] 

Bright  Jhines  the  sim,  play,  beggars,  play. 
Here's  scraps  enough  to  ser-ve  to-day. 

What  tioise  of  tnols  is  so  s-xveet 

As  nxihen  our  ?nerry  clappers  rifig  F 

If'hat  mirth  doth  tvant  ivhere  beggars  meet  ? 
A  beggar  s  life  is  for  a  king : 

Eat,  drink,  atid  play;  Jleep  nvhen  ive  lijl. 

Go  -cvhere  nve  nvill,  so  flocks  he  miffed. 
Bright  fhines  the  sun,  play,  beggars,  play. 
Here's  scraps  enough  to  ser-ue  to-day. 

The  -Tuorld  is  ours,  and  ours  alone. 
For  -uce  alone  haue  ivorlds  at  ivill : 

He  purchase  not,  'tis  all  our  onxn. 

Both  fields  and  flreets  nve  beggars  fill: 

Nor  care  to  get,  nor  fear  to  keep. 

Did  ever  break  a  beggar  s  fleep. 

Bright  Jhines  the  sun,  play,  beggars,  pl'iy, 
Here's  scraps  enough  to  ser-ve  to-day. 

A  hundred  head  of  black  and  ivhite 

Upon  our  go^vns  securely  feed ; 
If  any  dares  his  mafler  bite. 

He  dies  therefor,  as  sure  as  creed. 


Thus  beggars  lord  it  as  tliey  please  j 

And  only  beggars  li-ue  at  ease. 

Bright  (hines  the  sun,  play,  beggars,  play, 
Here^s  scraps  enough  to  ser've  to-day. 

Davison's   Poetical   Rhapsody. 


ODE. 

PE-nriON    TO    HAVE    HER    LEAVE    TO    DIE. 

[1602.J 

/{'HEN  -Tvill  the  fou)itain  of  tny  tears  be  dry? 

When  ^vill  my  Jighs  be  spe?it  F 
IVhe?i  ^-ivill  dejire  agree  to  let  me  die? 
H'lten  --ivill  thy  heart  relent  ? 
It  is  not  for  my  life  I  plead. 
Since  death  the  ivay  to  rejl  doth  lead; 
But  ftay  for  thy  consent. 
Left  thou  be  discontent. 

For  if  myself  -ivithout  thy  lea-ce  1  kill. 

My  ghojl  ^vill  ne-jjer  rejl , 
So  hath  it  s-zcorn  to  avork  thine  only  -tvHI, 
And  holds  that  e-ver  beJJ. 
For  fince  it  only  li-ues  by  thee, 
Good  reasoti  thou  the  ruler  be: 
Then  gi'ue  me  lea-ue  to  die. 
And  JhoiAJ  thy  pOTver  thereby. 

Davison's   Poetical  Rhapsody. 


MADRIGAL. 

[i6oz.j 

Mr  lo-x'e  in  her  attire  doth  JJ.ion.v  her  -jvif. 

It  doth  so  ^vell  become  her; 
For  every  seasoti  Jhe  hath  drejfings  Jit, 

For  ^winter,  spring,  and  summer. 

No  beauty  Jhe  doth  miss, 

When  all  her  robes  are  on  : 

For  Beauty^s  self  /he  is 

When  all  her  robes  are  gone. 

Davison's  Poetical  Rhapsohv. 


MADRIGAL. 

[1604.  j 

Hold  out,  my  heart,  nxjithjoys  delights  accloycd ; 
Hold  out,  my  heart,  and  Jho-iv  it, 
That  all  the  n.vorld  may  knoi.v  it, 

WItat  S'Tveet  contetit  thou  lately  hajl  enjoyed. 

She  that.   Come,  dear,  ivould  say. 

Then  laugh,  and  smile,  and  run  aivay. 

Anil  if  I  fayed  her  ^vould  cry.  Nay, 
Fie,  for  Jhame,  fie ! 

My  true  lo-ve  not  regarding. 

Hath  gi-uen  me  at  length  his  full  reivarding : 


So  that  unless  I  tell 

T/ie  joys  that  o--verfll  me, 
My  joys,  kept  in  J'lill  n.vell, 

I  kno-Tv  ivill  kill  ine. 

Weelkes's  Madrkjals. 


THERE   IS   A    GARDEN   IN   HER    FACE. 

[1606.] 

There  is  a  garden  in  her  face. 
Where  roses  and  ivhite  lilies  blotv ; 

A  hea-uenly  paradise  is  that  place. 
Wherein  all  pleasant  fruits  do  groiu : 

There  cherries  gronv  that  none  may  buy. 

Till  cherry-ripe  thetnseh-ues  do  cry. 

Those  cherries  Jairly  do  enclose 

Of  orient  pearl  a  double  roiv. 
Which  n.vhen  her  lo'uely  laughter  JIjo^lvs, 

They  look  like  rose-buds  filled  %vith  snoiv : 
Yet  them  nor  peer  nor  prince  may  buy. 
Till  cherry-ripe  the?nselues  do  cry. 

Her  eyes  like  angels  ivatch  them  Jiill; 

Her  broivs  like  bended  boivs  do  Jiand, 
Threatening  'with  piercing  fro-ivns  to  kill 

All  that  approach  <with  eye  or  hand 
Those  sacred  .cherries  to  come  nigh. 
Till  cherry-ripe  ihemseln;es  do  cry. 

Allison's  Hour's  Recreation   in   Music. 


SONG. 

[1606?] 

/  DO  cojifess  thourt  smooth  and  fair. 

And  I  might  ha-ue  gone  near  to  love  thee. 

Had  I  not  found  the  Jlightefl  prayer 

That  lips  could  speak  had  po-Tver  to  mo-ve  thee: 

But  I  can  let  thee  nonv  alone. 

As  nvorthy  to  be  lo-ued  by  none. 

I  do  confess  thoiirt  s-Tveet,  yet  find 
Thee  such  an  unthrift  of  thy  siveets. 

Thy  fa'vours  are  but  like  the  nvittd. 
That  kijfes  every  thing  it  meets; 

And  Jince  thou  canfl  n.vith  more  than  one, 

Thourt  nvorthy  to  be  kijfed  by  none. 

The  7Jiorning  rose,  that  untouched  Jlands, 

Armed  nvith  her  briers,  hoiv  siveetly  smells ! 

But  plucked  and  jlrained  through  ruder  hands. 
Her  siveets  no  longer  luith  her  d^vells ; 

But  scent  and  beauty  both  are  gone. 

And  leagues  fall  from  her  one  by  one. 

Such  fate,  ere  long,  ivill  thee  betide, 
IVhen  thou  hafl  handled  been  aivhilc. 

Like  sere  Jlo-ivers  to  be  throijun  afidc : 
And  I  ivill  figh,  nvhile  some  ivill  smile. 

To  see  thy  love  for  more  than  one 

Hath  brought  thee  to  be  loved  by  none. 

SiK   RoiiiRf    Avms 


MADRIGAL. 
[1606.] 

/{'hither  so  f aft?     Ah,  see  the  kindly  floivers 
Perfume  the  air,  and  all  to  make  thee  ftay : 

The  climbing  ^-woodbine,  clipping  all  these  bovvers. 
Clips  thee  likeivise,  for  fear  thou  pass  anxiay  -. 
Fortune,  our  friend,  our  foe,  nvill  not  gainsay : 

Stav  f>'tt  a-Lvhile,   PTicebe  no  tell-tale  is: 

She  her  Endymion — 77/  my  Phoebe  kiss. 

Bateson's  Madrigals. 


SONG. 

[1607.] 


Pack  clouds  a-zvay,  and  -Tvelcome  day, 

IVith  night  --ive  banift)  sorroiv ; 
Siveet  air,  bloi.u  soft,  mount,  lark,  aloft. 

To  gi'-ve  my  lo-ue  good-morrovj. 
Wings  from  the  njoind  to  please  her  mind. 

Notes  from  the  lark  Vll  borroxv ; 
Bird,  prune  thy  iving,  nightingale,  fing. 

To  give  my  lonje  good-morronv. 
To  gi-ue  my  love  good-morroiv. 
Notes  from  them  both  Til  borro-iu. 


li'ake  from  thy  tieji,  robin  redbreaft. 

Sing,  birds,  in  e-very  furroHV  ; 
And  from  each  hill  let  mujic  jhrill 
Giue  my  fair  lo~oe  good-morro--tv. 
Blackbird,  a?id  thrujh,  in  e-very  biijh. 

Stare,  linnet,  »and  cock-sparro^v  ; 
Tou  pretty  el-ues,  amongfl  yourselves. 
Sing  my  fair  lo-ue  good-morroiv. 
To  giue  7ny  lo-ue  good-tnorro-iv, 
Sing,  birds,  in  e-uery  fiirroiv. 

Thomas   Heywood. 


MADRIGAL. 

[1608.] 

Upon  a  hill  the  bonny  boy, 

S-iveet   Thirfis,  s-iveetly  played, 
And  called  his  lambs  their  majlers  joy  ; 

And  more  he  ivould  ha-ue  said. 
But  lo-ue  that  gi-ues  the  lo-uer^s  swings, 
JVithdre-i.v  his  mind  from  other  things. 

His  pipe  and  he  could  not  agree, 

For  Milla  tvas  his  note: 
The  filly  pipe  could  ne-ver  get 

This  lovely  7iame  b\i  rote: 
With  that  they  both  fell  on  a  sound. 
He  fell  afieep,  his  pipe  to  ground. 

WfcEI.KE  's     AiRN 


SONG. 

[.609.] 

STii.i.  to  be  neat,  ft  ill  to  be  drejl, 

As  you  avere  going  to  a  fcaft ; 

Still  to  be  pozvdered,  'ftill  perfumed; 

Lady,  it  is  to  be  presumed, 

Though  arfs  hid  causes  are  not  foutid. 

All  is  not  stceet,  all  is  not  sound. 

Give  me  a  look,  gi-ve  me  a  face 
That  makes  fimplicity  a  grace  j 
Robes  loosely  floTving,  hair  as  free : 
Siich  s-iveet  negleSi  more  taketh  ?ne 
Than  all  the  adulteries  of  art ; 
They  jlrike  7nine  eyes,  but  not  tny  heart. 

Ben  Jonson. 


TO    CELIA. 

[1616.] 

DriSK  to  me  only  ivith  thine  eyes. 

And  I  tvill  pledge  nvith  mine; 
Or  lea-ue  a  kiss  but  in  the  cup, 

And  ril  not  look  for  n.vine. 
The  thirjl  that  from  the  soul  doth  rise. 

Doth  ajk  a  drink  di-vine ; 
But  might  I  of  yo've''s  ne8ar  sup, 

I  'would  not  change  for  thine. 


/  sent  thee  late  a  rosy  -ivreath. 

Not  so  much  honouring  thee. 
As  gi-ving  it  a  hope  that  there 

It  could  not  <tvithered  be. 
But  thou  thereon  didft  only  breathe, 

And  sentyi  it  back  to  me: 
Since  ivhen  it  gro-zvs,  and  smells,  I  szvear. 

Not  of  itself,  but  thee. 

Ben  Jonson. 


TO    CELIA. 

[1616.] 

Kiss  ?ne,  s-xveet ;    the  luarj  lover 

Can  your  fa-uours  keep,  and  co-ver. 

When  the  co77imon  courting  jay 

All  your  bounties  luill  betray. 

Kiss  again !   no  creature  comes ; 

Kiss,  and  score  up  ixiealthy  sums 

On  7ny  lips,  thus  hardly  sundered. 

While  you  breathe.     Firjl  glue  a  hundred. 

Then  a  thousand,  then  another 

Hu?idred,  then  unto  the  other 

Add  a  thousand,  and  so  ?nore; 

Till  you  equal  -zvith  the  (lore. 

All  the  grass  that   Rum^iey  yields. 

Or  the  sands  in   Chelsea  fields. 


Or  the  drops  in  Jilver  Thames, 
Or  the  Jhirs  that  gild  his  Jireams, 
In  the  filent  summer-nights, 
When  youths  ply  their  flolen  delights  j 
That  the  curious  may  not  kno-iv 
Ho-tv  to  tell  Vot  as  they  floiv  ; 
And  the  envious,  nvhen  they  find 
What  their  number  is,  be  pined. 

Bkn  Ji 


THE    TRIUMPH    OF    CHARIS. 
[1616  ;j 

Sf.k   the  chariot  at  hand  here  of  Loue, 

Wherein  my  lady  rideth ! 
Each  that  drazvs  is  a  s-ivan  or  a  dove. 

And  ^vell  the  car  Lo-ve  guideth. 
As  fi)e  goes,  all  hearts  do  duty 

Unto  her  beauty; 
And,  enamoured,  do  ivijh,  so  they  might 
But  enjoy  such  a  fight. 
That  they  flill  ivere  to  run  by  her  fide. 
Through  STvords,  through  seas,  nvhither  Jhe  ivould  ride. 

Do  but  look  on  her  eyes,  they  do  light 

All  that  Lovers  ivorld  compriseth  ! 
Do  but  look  on  her  hair,  it  is  bright 

As  Lo've''s  ftar  nvhen  it  riseth ! 
Dj  but  mark,  her  forehead's  smoother 

Than  ivords  that  soothe  her! 

?8 


And  from  her  arched  bro~ajs,  such  a  grace 
Sheds  Itself  through  the  face. 
As  alone  there  triumphs  to  the  life 
All  the  gain,  all  the  good,  of  the  elements''  ftrife. 

Haue  you  seen  but  a  bright  lily  groii; 
Before  rude  hands  ha-ue  touched  it? 
Ha-ue  you  marked  hut  the  fall  o"  the  snoiv. 

Before  the  soil  hath  smutched  it? 
Haue  you  felt  the  ^mooI  of  beauer  ? 

Or  srvati's  doivn  euer  ? 
Or  haue  smelt  o'  the  bud  o'  the  brier  ? 

Or  the  nard  in  the  fire  ? 
Or  haue  tafted  the  bag  of  the  bee  ? 
O  so  uuhite !    O  so  soft!    O  so  s-iveet  is  (he! 

Ben  Jonson. 


rUE    WOOING    SONG    OF    P  A  N  G  L  O  R  V. 

[1610.] 

Love  is  the  blojfom  'zvhere  there  blon.vs 
Euery  thing  that  Hues  or  grouus ; 
Loue  doth  make  the  heauens  to  moue. 
And  the  sun  doth  burn  in  loue: 
Loue  the  ftrong  and  uoeak  doth  yoke. 
And  makes  the  iuy  climb  the  oak. 
Under  nvhose  /hadoivs  lions  ivild, 
Softened  by  loue,  gro-iv  tame  and  mild. 
Loue  no  medicine  can  appease; 
He  hums  the  fifhes  in  tlie  seas ; 


Not  nil  the  Jkill  his  ivounJs  can  ftanch^ 

Not  all  the  sea  his  fire  can  quench. 

Loue  did  make  the  bloody  spear 

Once  a  leavy  coat  to  nvear, 

While  in  his  leaues  there  Jhrouded  lay 

S^veet  birds,  for  lo-iie  that  fing  and  play ; 

And  of  all  Lo-ue's  joyful  fla?ne 

I  the  bud  and  blojfom  am. 

Only  bend  thy  knee  to  me. 

Thy  ivooing  Jhall  thy  ivinning  be. 

See,  see  the  floivers  that  beloiv 

No-M  as  frejh  as  morning  blo~u:, 

And  of  all,  the  'virgin  rose, 

That  as  bright  Aurora  fho-ivs; 

Hozu  they  all  unleaved  die, 

Lofing  their  -virginity : 

Like  unto  a  summer-Jhade, 

But  noiv  born,  and  nonv  they  fade. 

Euery  thing  doth  pass  aiuay ; 

There  is  danger  in  delay. 

Come,  come  gather,  then,  the  rose^ 

Gather  it,  or  it  you  lose. 

All  the  sand  of  Tagus^  Jhore 

In  my  bosom  cajls  his  ore: 

All  the  •■valleys''  s-jvimming  corn 

To  my  house  is  yearly  borne : 

Every  grape  of  every  'vine 

Is  gladly  bruised  to  make  me  ivine ; 

While  ten  thousand  kings,  as  proud 

To  carry  up  my  train,  have  bovued. 


And  a  luorld  of  ladies  send  me 

In  my  chambers  to  attend  me: 

All  the  flars  in  heanjen  that  Jhine, 

And  ten  thousand  more,  are  fnine. 
Only  bend  thy  knee  to  me. 
Thy  nvooing  jhall  thy  ^winning  be. 

Giles  Fletcher. 


SONG. 

[1610.] 


Do  not  fear  to  put  thy  feet 
Naked  in  the  rluer,  s^ueet ; 
Think  not  leech,  or  ne^vt,  or  toad. 
Will  bite  thy  foot,  <zuhen  thou  haji  trod ; 
Nor  let  the  ivater  rijing  high. 
As  thou  nvad^ft  in,  make  thee  cry. 
And  sob;    but  euer  li-ve  ivith  me. 
And  not  a  iva-ve  Jhall  trouble  thee. 

John  Fletcher. 


SONG. 

[.6.7?] 


IVeep  no  more,  fior  figh,  nor  groan, 
Sorronv  calls  no  time  thafs  gone; 
Violets  plucked,  the  snveetejl  rain 
Makes  not  frejh,  nor  gro^u  again. 


Trim  thy  locks,  look  cheerfully; 
Fate's  hidden  ends  eyes  cannot  see; 
Joys  as  -ivinged  dreams  fly  fajl. 
Why  Jhould  sadness  longer  lafl? 
Grief  is  hut  a  <tvound  to  -tvoe ; 
Gentlejl  fair,  mourn,  mourn  no  7no. 

John   Fi.tTCHER. 


SONG. 
'1614.'; 

'  Tjs  late  and  cold ;    ftir  up  the  fire ; 
Sit  close,  and  draiu  the  table  nigher ; 
Be  merry,  and  drink  -ivine  thafs  old, 
A  hearty  medicine  ^gainjl  a  cold: 
Your  beds  of  ivanton  do-ivn  the  bejl. 
Where  you  Jhall  tumble  to  your  reft ; 
I  could  luijb  you  ^wenches  too. 
But  I  am  dead,  and  cannot  do. 
Call  for  the  beft  the  house  may  ring. 
Sack,  n.vhite,  and  claret,  let  them  bring. 
And  drink  apace,  ivhile  breath  you  ha-ve-, 
Toull  find  but  cold  drink  in  the  grave: 
Plouer,  partridge  for  your  dinner. 
And  a  capon  for  the  finner. 
You  ftjall  find  ready  nvhen  you  re  up. 
And  your  horse  fhall  ha've  his  sup  : 
Welcome,  ^welcome,  ft^all  fly  round, 
And  I  fiall  smile,  though  under  ground. 

John   Fletcher. 


SONG. 

[I6z4f] 

Take,  oh !  take  those  lips  anvay. 
That  so  s-Tueetly  nvere  fors^worn, 

And  those  eyes,  like  break  of  day, 
Lights  that  do  mijlead  the  morn ! 

But  fny  kijfes  bring  again. 

Seals  of  lo-ue,  though  sealed  in  vain. 

Hide,  oh !   hide  those  hills  of  snon.v. 

Which  thy  frozen  bosom  bears. 
On  'zvhose  tops  the  pinks  that  gronx) 

Are  yet  of  those  that  April  nvears  ! 
But  firft  set  my  poor  heart  free. 
Bound  in  those  icy  chains  by  thee. 

John   Fletcher. 


SONG. 

[i6z4?J 

Drink  to-day,  and  dro-ivn  all  sorro-iv, 
Tou  Jhall  perhaps  not  do  it  to-morroxv : 
Beft,  nvhile  you  ha-ve  it,  use  your  breath  ; 
There  is  no  drinking  after  death. 

Wine  njoorks  the  heart  up,  nvakes  the  'zuit. 
There  is  7io  cure  'gainjl  age  but  it ; 
//  helps  the  head-ache,  cough,  and  phthific. 
And  is  for  all  diseases  phyfic. 


Tfien  let  us  sxvill,  hoys,  for  our  Jiealth  ; 
Who  drinks  'zvell  lo-ves  the  commotiTkjealth. 
And  he  that  ivill  to  bed  go  sober. 
Falls  nxi'tth  the  leaf,  Jiill  in   Oilober. 


John   Fletchk.r. 


SONG. 

[1614;] 

Hence,  all  you  -vain  delights. 
As  Jhort  as  are  the  nights 

JVherein  you  spend  your  folly ! 
There^s  naught  in  this  life  siveet. 
If  men  ijoere  ^vise  to  see't. 
But  only  melancholy ! 
O,  siveetefl  melancholy ! 
JFelcotne,  folded  arms,  and  fixed  eyes, 
A  figh,  that,  piercing,  mortifies  ,• 
A  look  thafs  fajlened  to  the  ground, 
A  tongue  chained  up  n.uithout  a  sound ! 
Fountain  heads,  and  pathless  gro-~ues. 
Places  nvhich  pale  Pajfion  lo'ues ! 
Moonlight  nvalks,  nvhen  all  the  fonxils 
Are  'voarmly  housed,  saue  bats  and  oivls ! 
A  midnight  hell,  a  parting  groan, 
These  are  the  sounds  ^ive  feed  upon  j 
Then  jlretch  our  hones  in  a  ftill  gloomy  --valley. 
Nothing^ s  so  dainty  sxveet  as  lo-uely  melancholy. 

John    Flktchkr. 


64 


MADRIGAL. 

[i6ii.] 

Hafe  I  found  her?     O  rich  finding] 

Goddess-like  for  to  behold  j 
Her  fair  treffes  seemly  biftding 

In  a  chain  of  pearl  and  gold : 
Chain  7ne,  chain  me,  oh  mofl  fair. 
Chain  me  to  thee  ivith  that  hair .' 

Pilkington's  Madrigals. 


[1612.] 

Shall   I,  nvajling  in  despair. 

Die,  because  a  n.vomans  fair  ? 

Or  make  pale  7ny  cheeks  ivit/t  care, 

^ Cause  another's  rosy  are? 

Be  Jhe  fairer  than  the  day. 

Or  the  Jlo^very  meads  in  May, 

If  /he  be  not  so  to  me. 

What  care  I  lto~M  fair  Jhe  be? 

Shall  my  foolijh  heart  be  pitied, 
'Cause  I  see  a  njjoman  kind. 
Or  a  -tvell-disposed  nature. 
Joined  'with  a  lovely  feature  ? 
Be  Jhe  meeker,  kinder,  than 
Turtle-do-ve  or  pelican, 


If  Jbe  be  not  so  to  me. 

What  care  I  ho-iu  kind  Jhe  be  ? 

Shall  a  nvomans  ^virtues  jno-ue 

Me  to  perijh  for  her  lo^'e  ? 

Or  her  moell-deser-uing  knoivn. 

Make  me  quite  forget  mine  o^uun  ? 

Be  Jhe  ivith  that  goodness  blefl. 

Which  may  gain  her  name  of  beji, 
If  Jhe  be  not  such  to  me. 
What  care  I  ho-cv  good  Jlie  be  ? 

"Cause  her  fortune  seems  too  high. 

Shall  I  play  the  fool  and  die  ? 

Those  that  bear  a  noble  mind. 

Where  they  ^vant  of  riches  find. 

Think  ivhat  ivith  them  they  nvould  do. 

That  'without  them  dare  to  ivoo: 
And  unless  that  mind  I  see. 
What  care  I  ho-tv  great  Jhe  be  ? 

Great,  or  good,  or  kind,  or  fair, 

I  ixjill  tie'er  the  more  despair. 

IJ' Jhe  lo'-ve  me,  this  belieue, 

I  njuill  die  ere  Jhe  Jhall  grie've : 

If  Jhe  flight  me,  mohen  I  n-voo, 

I  can  scorn,  and  let  her  go. 
For  if  Jhe  be  not  for  me. 
What  care  I  for  nvhom  Jhe  be  ? 

George  Withir. 


[i6ii.] 

Call  for  the  robin  redbreafl  and  the  ivren. 

Since  o^er  jhady  grooves  they  hoover. 

And  'zvith  leaves  and  fionvers  do  cover 

The  friendless  bodies  of  unburied  men. 

Call  unto  his  funeral  dole 

The  ant,  the  field-mouse,  and  the  mole. 

To  rear  him  hillocks  that  jhall  keep  him  nxiarm. 

And  [vohen  gay  tombs  are  robbed)  suftain  no  hartn : 

But  keep  the  n.uolf  far  thence,  that^s  foe  to  7nen, 

For  vuith  his  nails  he^ll  dig  them  up  again. 

John  Webster 


[1616? 


Hark,  no-uo  every  thing  is  fiill; 

The  screech-Oiul  and  the  ^vhijller  firill 

Call  upon  our  dame  aloud. 

And  bid  her  quickly  don  her  Jhroud ! 

Much  you  had  of  land  and  rent ; 

Tour  length  in  clay''s  no-iv  competent: 

A  long  tvar  diflurbed your  mind; 

Here  your  perfeB  peace  is  figned. 

Of  vohat  is" t  fools  make  such  vain  keeping? 

Sin  their  conception,  their  birth  nveeping, 

Their  life  a  general  mifl  of  error. 

Their  death  a  hideous  jhrrn  of  terror. 


67 


Sl>eTV  your  hair  ivit/i  poivders  siveet, 

Don  clean  linen,  bathe  your  feet. 

And  (the  foul  fiend  more  to  check) 

A  crucifix  let  bless  your  neck  ; 

'77/  TKiv  full  tide  ''t-'ween  night  and  day. 

End  your  groan,  and  come  aivay. 

John   Webster. 


[I62J.] 


All  the  flonvers  of  the  Spring 

Meet  to  perfume  our  burying: 

These  ha'ue  but  their  grooving  prime. 

And  man  does  flourifh  but  his  time. 

Sur-z>ey  our  progress  from  our  birth  ; 

IVe  are  set,  ive  grorv,  ive  turn  to  earth. 

Courts  adieu,  and  all  delights. 

All  be-ivitching  appetites! 

Snveete/l  breath,  and  clearefl  eye. 

Like  perfumes,  go  out  and  die; 

And  consequently  this  is  done 

As  fhadomos  nvait  upon  the  sun. 

Vain  the  ambition  of  kings. 

Who  seek  by  trophies  and  dead  things 

To  league  a  linking  name  behind. 

And  ^ojeanje  but  nets  to  catch  the  avind. 

John  Webster. 


69 


MADRIGAL. 

[i6ij?] 

O  SAT,  dear  life,  ixshen  Jhall  those  t-ivin-born  berries. 
So  lovely  ripe,  by  my  rude  lips  be  tajled? 

Shall  I  7iot  pluck — s-uueet,  say  not  nay ! — those  cherries  ? 
O  let  them  not  R.mth  summer  s  heat  be  blafted! 

Nature,  thou  knonv^Jl,  bejloived  them  free  on  thee; 

Then  be  thou  kitid,  beJlo-TU  thetn  free  on  me. 

Ward's  Madrigals. 


THE    CHARACTER    OF   A    HAPPY   LIFE. 

[1614.J 

Hoiy  happy  is  he  born  and  taught. 
That  sernjeth  not  another'' s  nuill: 
Whose  armour  is  his  honeji  thought. 
And  funple  truth  his  utmofl  Jkill 

Whose  pajfions  not  his  fnajlcrs  are; 
Whose  soul  is  ftill  prepared  for  death. 
Untied  unto  the  njjorld  by  care 
Of  public  fame,  or  prluate  breath. 

Who  en-uies  none  that  chance  doth  raise. 
Nor  'vice ;    nvho  neuer  underjlood 
Honv  deepe/l  ivounds  are  given  by  praise; 
Nor  rules  of  State,  but  rules  of  good. 


H'ho  hath  his  life  from  rumours  freed ; 
Whose  conscience  is  his  Jirong  retreat ; 
Whose  Jlate  can  neither  flatterers  feed. 
Nor  ruin  make  opprejfors  great. 

Who  God  doth  late  and  early  pray 
More  of  his  Grace  than  gifts  to  lend; 
And  entertains  the  harmless  day 
With  a  religious  book,  or  frieiid. 

This  man  is  freed  from  ser-uile  bands 
Of  hope  to  rise,  or  fear  to  fall: 
Lord  of  himself,  though  not  of  lands. 
And  hauing  nothing,  yet  hath  all. 

Sir  Henry  Wotton. 


ON  HIS  MISTRESS,    THE  SiJJEEN   OF  BOHEMIA. 

[1610.] 

Tou  meaner  beauties  of  the  night. 
That  poorly  satisfy  our  eyes. 

More  by  your  number  than  your  light. 
You  common  people  of  the  Jkies, 
What  are  you  'n.vhen  the  sun  Jhall  rise  ? 

You  curious  chanters  of  the  nvood. 

That  ivarble  forth  Dame  Nature's  lays, 

Thinking  your  pajjions  underjlood 

By  your  nveak  accents,  -what's  your  praise. 
When  Philomel  her  a/oice  Jhall  raise  ? 


Tou  'violets  that  firji  appear. 

By  your  pure  purple  fnatitles  kno-uun. 

Like  the  proud  •virgins  of  the  year. 
As  if  the  Spring  <zvere  all  your  oivn. 
What  are  you  nvhen  the  rose  is  blonxin  ? 

So,  nvlien  my  7niftress  /hall  he  seen. 
In  form,  and  beauty  of  her  mind. 

By  'virtue  firft,  then  choice,  a  queen. 
Tell  me,  if  Jhe  ivere  not  deftgned 
Th'  eclipse  and  glory  of  her  kind  ? 

Sir   Henry   Wotton. 


THE    INDIFFERENT. 

[i6is;] 

I. 

Never  more  luill  I  protejl 
To  lo've  a  ivoman,  but  in  jejl: 
For  as  they  cannot  be  true. 
So  to  gi'ue  each  man  his  due. 
When  the  avooing  ft  is  pajl. 
Their  affeSiion  cannot  lajl. 


Therefore  if  I  chance  to  meet 
With  a  mijlress,  fair  and  siveet. 
She  my  ser-vice  fmll  obtain. 
Loving  her  for  love  again ; 


This  much  liberty  I  cro've. 
Not  to  be  a  conjiant  Jlaue. 


But  ivhen  ave  haue  tried  each  other. 
If  Jhe  better  like  another. 
Let  her  quickly  change  for  me. 
Then  to  chajige  am  I  as  free. 
He  or  Jhe  that  lo-ves  too  long. 
Sell  their  freedom  for  a  song. 


Francis  Beaumont. 


MADRIGAL. 

[1616.] 

/  FF.yiR   not  henceforth  death, 

Sith  after  this  departure  yet  I  breathe  ; 

Let  rocks,  and  seas,  and  ivind. 

Their  highejl  treasons  fio-Tv : 

Let  Jky  atid  earth  combined 

Stri--ve,  if  they  can,  to  end  ?ny  life  and  ivoe ; 

Sith  grief  cannot,  ?ne  nothing  can  d'erthron.v  : 
Or  if  that  aught  can  cause  my  fatal  lot. 
It  ivill  be  luhen  I  hear  I  am  forgot. 

William   Drummond. 


A    KISS. 

[1616.J 

Hark,  happy  lo'vers,  hark. 
This  Jirji  and  lafl  of  joys. 
This  s^weetener  of  annoys. 
This  neSlar  of  the  gods 
7'e  call  a  kiss,  is  ivith  itself  at  odds  ; 
And  half  so  snveet  is  not 
In  equal  measure  got 
At  light  of  sun,  as  it  is  in  the  dark : 
Hark,  happy  lo-uers,  hark. 

William   Drummond. 


DESIRED    DEATH. 

[1631?] 
Dkar  life,  ivhile  I  do  touch 
These  coral  ports  of  bliss, 
IVhich  ftill  themselves  do  kiss. 
And  s-Tueetly  me  invite  to  do  as  ?nuch. 
All  panting  in  my  lips 
My  heart  my  sense  doth  leave. 
No  sense  my  senses  have. 

And  in-ivard  po~Tvers  do  find  a  jlrange  eclipse ; 
This  death  so  heavenly  tvell 
Doth  so  me  please,  that  I 
Would  never  longer  seek  in  sense  to  dxvell. 
If  that  even  thus  I  only  could  but  die. 

Wn.l.IAM     DrI'MMONII. 


ro    SLEEP. 

[If.JI?] 

How  comes  it.  Sleep,  that  ihou 
E-ven  kijfes  me  affords 

Of  Jier,  dear  fier,  so  far  nvho's  absent  noiv? 
Hoix'  did  I  hear  those  •ucords. 

Which  rocks  might  mo-'ve,  and  moue  the  pines  to  hotv  F 
Ay  me,  before  half  day 
Why  didfl  thou  Ileal  aivay  F 
Return,  I  thine  fore-ver  •ivill  remain, 
If  thou  -ivilt  bring  -ivith  thee  that  guc/l  ai^ain. 

WiLLIAM     DrUMMOND. 


[i6t6.] 

Shall  I  tell  you  n.vhom  I  love F 
Hearken  then  azvhile  to  me; 

And  if  such  a  njjoman  mo-ye. 
As  I  no-TV  Jhall  'verffy. 

Be  affured  ''tis  Jhe,  or  none, 

That  I  love,  and  love  alone. 

Nature  did  her  so  much  right. 
As  Jhe  scorns  the  help  of  art  ,■ 

In  as  fnany  virtues  dight 

As  e'er  yet  embraced  a  heart : 

So  much  good,  so  truly  tried. 

Some  for  less  luere  deified. 


tVit  Jhe  hath,  nvithout  defire 

To  make  kno^wn  ho-Tv  much  Jhe  hath ; 
And  her  anger  flames  no  higher 

Than  ?nay  fitly  s-tveeten  n.vrath. 
Full  of  pity  as  may  be. 
Though,  perhaps,  not  so  for  me. 

Reason  mafters  e-uery  sense. 

And  her  'virtues  grace  her  birth ; 

Lovely  as  all  excellence. 

Mode  ft  in  her  ?noft  of  fnirt/i : 

Likelihood  etiough  to  pronie 

Only  'worth  could  kindle  lo-ue. 

SucJi  Jhe  is :    and  if  you  kno-TV 

Such  a  07ie  as  I  ha-ue  sung; 
Be  /he  broiun,  or  fair,  or  so. 

That  /he  be  but  someivhile  young ; 
Be  affured  "'tis  (he,  or  none. 
That  I  lo-ue,  and  lo-ve  alone. 

William   Browne. 


SONG. 

[1620?] 

Steer,  hither  fleer,  yottr  ivinged  pines. 

All  beaten  mariners; 
Here  lie  Lo-ue'' s  undisco-uered  mines, 

A  prey  to  paffengers  ; 
Perfumes  far  siveeter  than  the  be  ft 
Which  make  the  phrenix''  urn  and  ncft. 


Fenr  not  your  Jh'ips, 
Nor  any  to  oppose  you,  sanje  our  lips : 

But  come  on  fhore, 
Where  no  joy  dies  till  Love  hath  gotten  more. 

For  s-uelling  -lua-ves,  our  panting  breafts, 

Jf'/iere  ?iez>er  ftorms  arise. 
Exchange,  and  be  axvhile  our  guefts ; 

For  ftars,  gaze  on  our  eyes. 
The  compass  Love  Jhall  hourly  fing. 
And,  as  he  goes  about  the  ring, 

]Ve  -^vill  not  miss 
To  tell  each  point  he  nameth  i.vith  a  kiss. 

Then  come  on  Jhore, 
If'here  no  joy  dies  till  Love  hath  gotten  more. 

William   Browne. 


SONG. 

[1617;] 
I. 
LorE  is  a  Jickness  full  of  ivoes. 

All  remedies  refufmg; 
A  plant  that  "voith  mojl  cutting  gro-ivs, 
Mofl  barren  ivith  bejl  ufing. 
Why  so? 
More  nve  enjoy  it,  more  it  dies; 
If  not  enjoyed,  it  fighing  cries. 
Heigh  hoi 


Lo've  is  a  tormoit  of  the  m'md, 

A  tempefl  e-uerlajYing  .- 
And  Joue  hath  made  it  of  a  kind. 
Not  nvell,  nor  full  nor  fajiing. 
Why  so? 
More  n.ve  enjoy  it,  more  it  dies; 
If  not  enjoyed,  it  fighiiig  cries. 
Heigh  hoi 

Samuel   Daniel. 


SONG. 

[1617?] 

Had  Sorro^v  e-uer  fitter  place 

To  aSl  his  part, 

Than  is  my  heart. 
Where  it  takes  up  all  the  space? 

Where  is  no  'vein 

To  entertain 
A  thought  that  --wears  atiothcr  face  F 

Nor  avill  I  Sorroiv  ex'er  ha-ve 

Therein  to  he. 

But  only  thee. 
To  n.vhom  1  full  pojfcjjion  ga-ve : 

Thou  in  thy  name 

Mujl  hold  the  same, 
Until  thou  bring  it  to  the  grave. 

Samuii.   Daniel. 


SONG. 

[1618.] 


Rise,  lady,  mijlress,  rise! 

The  night  hath  tedious  been ; 
No  Jleep  hath  fallen  into  7tiy  eyes. 

Nor  Jlumbers  made  me  fin : 
Is  7iot  Jhe  a  saint  then,  say. 
Thought  of  ^Lvhom  keeps  fin  a-tcay  F 


Rise,  madam,  rise,  and  give  me  light. 

Whom  darkness  fill  n.vill  co-uer. 
And  ignorance,  darker  than  the  night. 

Till  thou  smile  oil  thy  louver: 
All  ^vant  day  till  thy  beauty  rise, 
For  the  gray  morn  breaks  from  thine  eyes. 

Nathaniel   Fikld. 


THE    CRIER. 

[1619.J 


Good  folk,  for  gold  or  hire. 
But  help  me  to  a  crier. 
For  my  poor  heart  is  run  au.vay. 
After  fiijo  eyes  that  pajfed  this  ivay. 
O  yes,   O  yes,   O  yes. 


If  there  be  any  man. 

In  to-ivn  or  country,  can 

Bring  me  my  heart  again, 

ril  please  him  for  his  pain ; 
And  by  these  inarks  I  vjill  you  /ho-v 
'That  only  I  this  heart  do  oiue. 

It  is  a  ivounded  heart. 

Wherein  yet  Jlicks  the  dart  ; 
E~jery  piece  sore  hurt  throughout  it, 
Faith  and  troth  ivrit  round  about  it. 
It  ivas  a  ta?ne  heart,  and  a  dear. 

And  ne-iier  used  to  roam ; 
But  halving  got  this  haunt,  I  fear 

^T'Tvill  hardly  fay  at  home. 
For  God's  sake,  lualking  by  the  ^vay. 

If  you  my  heart  do  see. 
Either  impound  it  fur  a  ftray. 

Or  send  it  back  to  me. 

Mich 'EL   Drayton. 


SONG. 

[l6io?] 
I. 

Ladies,  fiee  from  Lo-ve's  snveet  tale; 
Oaths  Jieeped  in  tears  do  oft  pre--vail: 
Grief  is  infeSlious,  and  the  air. 
Inflamed  nvith  fighs,  nvill  blafl  the  fair. 
Then  ftop  your  ears  nvJien  Innjers  cry. 
Left  yourself  ^.ueeping  ^jjith  soft  eye 
79 


Shall  'zvith  a  sorroiving  tear  repay 
T/iat  pity  iv/iich  you  cajl  aivay.^ 


Toung  men,  flee  ivhen   Beauty  darts 
Amorous  glances  at  your  hearts : 
A  quick  eye  gives  the  surer  aim. 
And  ladies^  lips  ha-ve  po=wer  to  maim. 
No-iv  in  her  lips,  no^v  in  her  eyes, 
Lapt  in  a  kiss  or  smile,   Loi'e  lies; 
Then  flee  betimes,  for  only  they 
Do  conquer  Loz'e  that  run  aivay. 

WiLiiAM   Herbert,   Earl  of  Pembroke. 


SONG. 

[1621.J 
Stat,  bold  thoughts,  refrain  your  -vill. 
Silent  be,  and  suffer  fill. 
IVhat !   not  speak,  if  /he  be  by? 
Torment  ,•    if  you  do,  you  die : 
Say  the  flame  to  rise  begin. 
Tears  ivithout  may  quench  ivithin. 
Better  die  in  easy  pain. 
Suffering,  than  if  not  be  flain. 
Is  there  then  no  remedy? 
Silence,  then  I" II  -Tvelcome  thee! 
And  thou,  tongue  of  mine,  conceal 
What  the  heart  mufl  not  reveal. 

Leonard  Digges. 


SONG. 

[i6iz.] 
I. 
Come  buy,  you  lufly  gallants. 
These  Jimples  n.vhich  I  sell: 
In  rill  our  days  nvere  ne-ver  seen  like  these. 

For  beauty,  ftrength,  and  smell. 
Here\'  the  king-cup,  the  pa7isy,  -Tvi/h  the  -violet. 
The  rose  that  loves  the  jho'^ver. 
The  tuholesome  gillifion.vcr. 
Both  the  co-xvflip,  lily. 
And  the  daffadilly, 
With  a  thousand  in  tny  po-iver. 


Here's  golden  amaranthus, 

T/iat  true  love  can  provoke , 
Of  horehound  Jiore,  and  poisotiing  hellebore. 

With  the  polipode  of  the  oak  : 
Here's  chafle  nervine,  and  luftful  cringo, 
Health-presernjing  sage. 
And  rue,  ivhich  cures  old  age. 
With  a  ivorld  of  others. 
Making  fruitful  motlicrs  ; 
All  these  attend  jne  as  my  page. 

Maricham   am>  Sampson. 


SONG. 

[I6z6?]  • 

Drop  golden  Jhoivers,  gentle  Sleepy 

And  all  the  angels  of  the  night, 

JVhich  do  us  in  proteSlion  keep. 

Make  this  queen  dream  of  delight. 

Morpheus,  be  kind  a  little,  and  be 

Death's  no-iu  true  image,  for  't-ivill  pro'ue 

To  this  poor  queen  that  thou  art  he; 

Her  grave  is  made  i'  the  bed  of  lo've. 

Thus  iviih  s-zveet  s-xveets  can  Heaven  ?nix  gall, 

Jnd  marriage  turn  to  funeral. 

Thomas  Goffe. 


SONG. 

[1628.] 
Hoiv  I  laugh  at  their  fond  •ivijh. 

Whose  deftre 

Aims  no  higher 
Than  the  baits  of  Midas"  difh ! 

What  is  gold  but  yellonv  dirt. 

Which  th"  unkind 

Heavens  refined. 
When  they  made  us  love  our  hurt  ? 

Would  to  Heaven  that  I  might  jleep 

My  faint  eyes 

In  the  nvise. 
In  the  gentle  devo  of  Sleep ! 


Whose  effeBs  do  pose  us  so. 

That  tve  deem 

It  does  seem 
Both  Death's  bother  and  his  foe. 

This  does  a/'zuays  nxiith  us  keep. 

And  being  dead 

That's  not  fled ; 
Death  is  but  a  longer  Sleep. 

Robert  Gomersall. 


A    SONG, 

FOR      r  H  F.     MUSIC     LECTURE. 
L1635.J 

Strike  again!    O,  no,  no  more, 

I  implore ; 
Such  another  touch  tvould  be 

My  dejiiny! 
What  bewitching  sounds  are  these. 

Which  so  please. 
As  that  ive  begin  to  fear 

What  ive  hear? 
Sound  yet  louder  I     Raise  a  tone. 

Which  to  ovjn 
The  celeftial  quire  ivould  he 

Suitors  t'  ye. 
Sound  yet  louder !   that  if  Fate 

Make  this  date 


To  my  years,  I  yet  77iny  die 

Speedily  ,• 
And  that  this  ditty,  s-tveetly  jlrong. 
May  be  my  death*and  funeral  song. 

Robert  Gomersall. 


SONG. 

[1630.] 

I. 

IVe  care  nottfor  inoney,  riches,  or  tvealth. 
Old  Sack  is  our  7noney,  old  Sack  is  our  health : 
Then  let^s  flock  hither. 
Like  birds  of  a  feather. 
To  drink,  to  fling, 
To  laugh,  to  ftng , 
Conferring  our  notes  together, 
Cofif erring  our  notes  together. 


Come,  let  us  laugh,  let  us  drink,  let  us  fing. 
The   IVinter  nvith  us  is  as  good  as  the  Spring: 
We  care  not  a  feather 
For  ivind,  or  for  lueather, 
But  night  and  day 
JVe  sport  and  play. 
Conferring  our  notes  together. 
Conferring  our  notes  together. 

Thomas  Randolph. 
U 


SONG. 

[i6ji.] 
IVnr  art  thou  Jlo^uu,  thou  reft  of  trouble,  Denth, 

To  flop  a  ivretch":  breath. 
That  calls  0)i  thee,  and  offers  her  sad  heart 

A  prey  mito  thy  dart? 
I  am  tiot  young,  7ior  fair ;    be,  therefore,  bold  -. 

Sorro-iv  hath  i7iade  me  old, 
Deformed,  and  %vrinkled ;    all  that  I  can  cra~ce 

Is  quiet  i?z  my  gra-ue. 
Such  as  li-ue  happy,  hold  long  Ufa  a  je-vsel ; 

But  to  me  thou  art  cruel. 
If  thou  end  not  my  tedious  jnisery. 

And  I  soon  cease  to  be. 
Strike,  and  ftrike  home,  then  ^   pity  u7ito  tne, 
In  one  ft)ort  hours  delay,  is  tyranny. 

Philip   Massinger. 


VIR  TUE. 
[i6ji  ?J 
Sff^EET  day,  so  cool,  so  calm,  so  bright, 
The  bridal  of  the  earth  and  ftiy ; 
The  de-TV  ftiall  nvcep  thy  fall  to-night. 
For  thou  muft  die. 

Szveet  rose,  ivhose  hue,  angry  and  bra-ve. 
Bids  the  ra/b  gazer  ivipe  his  eye; 
Thy  root  is  e'ver  in  its  gra-ue. 

And  thou  muft  die. 


S-Tveet  Spring,  full  of  s-Tveet  days  and  roses, 
A  box  ivhere  s-ix:eets  compacted  lie; 
My  ?nujic  Jho-ujs  ye  ha-je  your  closes. 
And  all  mujl  die. 

Only  a  siveet  and  'virtuous  soul. 
Like  seasoned  timber,  /leuer  gi-ues : 
But  though  the  -ixhole  luorld  turns  to  coal. 
Then  chiejly  li-~oes. 

George   Herbert. 


DISDAIN    RETURNED. 

[i6jz.] 
I. 

He  that  loaves  a  rosy  cheek, 
Or  a  coral  Up  admires. 

Or,  from  flar-like  eyes,  doth  seek 
Fuel  to  maintain  his  fires ; 

As  old   Time  makes  these  decay. 

So  his  flames  mufl  'vjajle  aix'ay. 


But  a  s?nooth  and  fteadfafl  mind. 
Gentle  thoughts  and  calm  defires. 

Hearts,  <ivith  equal  lo-ue  combined. 
Kindle  neuer-dying  fires. 

Where  these  are  not,  I  despise 

Lo-vely  cheeks,  or  lips,  or  eyes. 

Thomas  Carew. 


SONG. 

[1636;] 
I. 
Ask  me  no  more  ivhere  Jove  beftoivs, 
When  June  is  pa  ft,  the  fading  rose  j 
For  in  your  beauty's  orient  deep. 
These  flo-i-vers,  as  in  their  causes,  Jleep. 

n. 
Ajli  tne  no  tnore  tuhither  doth  Jiray 
The  golden  atoms  of  the  day ; 
For,  in  pure  lo've,   Hea^ven  did  prepare 
Those  po^ivders  to  enrich  your  hair. 

III. 
AJi  me  no  more  ivhither  doth  hafte 
The  nightingale  ivhen  Spring  is  pajl; 
For  in  your  snjjcct  di-uiding  throat 
She  'zvinters,  and  keeps  n.varm  her  note. 

IV. 

AJk  me  no  more  'where  those  Jlars  light 
That  doivnivards  fall  in  dead  of  night ; 
For  in  your  eyes  they  Jit,  and  there 
Fixed  become  as  in  their  sphere. 

V. 

A/k  me  no  more  if  ea_ft  or  nveji 
The  Phcenix  builds  her  spicy  nef ; 
For  unto  you  at  lajl  Jlje  Jiies, 
And  in  your  fragrant  bosom  dies. 

Thomas  Cakevv. 


SONG. 

C  F.  I.  I  A     SINGING. 

[1656?] 

Voc  that  think  lonje  can  conijey 

No  other  ivay. 
But  through  the  eyes,  into  the  heart, 

His  fatal  dart ; 
Close  up  those  casements,  and  but  hear 

This  fir  en  fmg ; 

And  on  the  iving 
Of  her  szveet  •■voice  it  fjall  appear 
That  loue  can  enter  at  the  ear: 
Then  unveil  your  eyes,  behold 

The  curious  mould 
Where  that  'voice  d-wells ;    and,  as  ^.ve  knoiv, 

JVhen  the  cocks  cron.v, 

IV e  freely  may 

Gaze  on  the  day  .- 
So  may  you,  nuhen  the  mufic  s  done, 
Anuake  and  see  the  rifing  sun. 

Thomas   Care«. 


SONG. 

Oh,  no  more,  no  more,  too  late 

Sighs  are  spent ;    the  burning  tapers 

Of  a  life  as  chajle  as  fate. 

Pure  as  are  un-ivritten  papers. 


Are  burned  out:    no  heat,  no  light 
Noiv  remains  i    'tis  e-uer  night. 
Lo-ue  is  dead  j    let  lovers''  eyes. 
Locked  in  endless  drea>ns. 
The  extreme  of  all  extremes. 
Ope  no  more,  for  noi<j  love  dies. 
Noiv  lo-ve  dies,  implying 
Love's  martyrs  mujl  be  ever,  ever  dying. 

John   Ford. 


DIRGE. 

[i6j}.] 


Glories,  pleasures,  pomps,  delight,  and  ease. 

Can  but  please 
The  outivard  senses,  ixihen  the  tnind 
Is  or  untroubled,  or  by  peace  refined. 
Crowns  ?nay  flourijh  and  decay. 
Beauties  Jhine,  but  fade  aivay. 
Youth  may  revel,  yet  it  mujl 
Lie  donxin  in  a  bed  of  duji. 
Earthly  honours  flonv  and  nvajle. 
Time  alone  doth  change  and  lajl. 
Sorronus  mingled  luith  contents,  prepare 

Rejl  for  care ; 
Lo've  only  reigns  in  death  ;    though  art 
Can  find  no  comfort  for  a  broken  heart. 

loilN     I"0RI>. 


SONG. 

[1634.1 
O  SoRROif,  SorroTV,  say  iv/iere  ciojl  thou  d-ivell r* 

In  the  lotuej}  room  of  hell. 
Art  thou  born  of  human  race  F 

No,  no,  I  haue  a  fierier  face ! 
Art  thou  in  city,  toivn,  or  court  ? 

I  to  every  place  resort. 
O,  nvhy  into  the  nvorlJ  is  Sorrouj  sent  ? 

Men  affliiled  beft  repent. 
What  dofl  thou  feed  on  ? 

Broken  Jleep. 
What  takejl  thou  pleasure  in  ? 
To  aveep ; 

To  Jigh,  to  sob,  to  pine,  to  groan. 
To  ^Mring  my  hands,  to  Jit  alone. 
O  ivhen,   O  nvhen  Jhall  Sorroav  quiet  ha^xe ? 
Never,  never,  never,  never. 
Never  till  fhe  finds  a  grave. 

Saml-kl   Rowley. 


TO    ROSES    IN    THE    BOSOM    OF    CASTA R A. 

[I6}4.] 
I. 

Te,  blujlnfig  virgins,  happy  are 
In  the  chafe  numiery  of  her  breafts  ; 
For  he^d  profane  so  chajie  a  fair, 
Whoe'^er  Jhould  call  the?n   Cupid's  nefls. 


Transplanted  thus  ho~v  bright  ye  gro-iv, 
Ho^w  rich  a  perfume  do  ye  yield! 
In  some  close  garden,  co-ivftips  so 
Are  s-Tveeter  than  i'  the  open  feld. 


In  those  nvhite  cloijlers  live  secure 
From  the  rude  blajls  of  ^wanton  breath  j 
Each  hour  more  innocent  and  pure. 
Till  you  /hall  n.vither  into  death. 


Then  that  ^vhich  living  ga-ve  you  room. 
Your  glorious  sepulchre  Jhall  be : 
There  nvants  no  marble  for  a  tomb. 
Whose  heart  hath  jnarble  been  to  n:c. 

William   Habington. 


UPON    CASTARA'S    DEPARTURE. 
[1634.] 
Votvs  are  'uain.     No  suppliant  breath 
Stays  the  speed  of  s'zvift-heeled  Death. 
Life  njoith  her  is  gone,  and  I 
Learn  but  a  neiv  nvay  to  die. 
See,  the  flonvers  cotidole,  and  all 
Wither  in  my  funeral. 
The  bright  lily,  as  if  day 
Parted  nvith  her,  fades  aivay. 


y 


Violets  hang  their  heads,  and  lose 
All  their  beauty       That  the  rose 
A  sad  part  in  sorroiv  bears. 
Witness  all  those  denuy  tears. 
Which  as  pearl,  or  diamond-like; 
Sivell  upon  her  blujhing  cheek. 
All  things  mourn.     But  O,  behold 
Ho-lU  the  tvithered  marigold 
Closeth  up  no'w  fie  is  gone. 
Judging  her  the  setting  Sun .' 

William   Habington. 


SONG. 

[1634.] 
SffEET  Echo,  siueetejl  nymph,  that  H--jJi  unseen 

Within  thy  airy  Jhell, 
By  Jloiv  Meander  s  margent  green. 
And  in  the  'violet-embroidered  <vale. 

Where  the  lonje-lorn  nightingale 
Nightly  to  thee  her  sad  song  mourneth  nvell ; 
Canfl  thou  not  tell  me  of  a  gentle  pair 

That  likefl  thy  Narcijfus  are  ? 

O,  if  thou  ha-ve 
Hid  them  in  some  flotvery  caue, 

Tell  me  but  ivhere, 
Suoeet  queen  of  parley,  daughter  of  the  sphere ! 
So  mayji  thou  be  tranflated  to  the  fkies. 
And  gi-'ve  resounding  grace  to  all  hea-uens  hartnonies. 

John   Milton. 
92 


SONG. 

[>654.] 
Sabrina  fair, 

Liften  ivhere  thou  art  fitting 
Under  the  glajfy,  cool,  tranflucent  ^wa-ue. 

In  tnxjifted  braids  of  lilies  knitting 
The  loose  train  of  thy  amber-dropping  hair; 

Liften  for  dear  honour  s  sake. 

Goddess  of  the  fd-uer  lake, 
Liflen  and  sa^ve. 
Liften  and  appear  to  lis 
In  name  of  great  Oceanus, 
By  th"  earth-fhaking  Neptune' s  mace. 
And  Tethys''  graue  ?najeftic  face, 
By  hoary  Nereus'  avrinkled  look. 
And  the  Carpathian  nvizard's  hook. 
By  scaly   Triton's  ^winding  ftjell, 
And  old  soothsaying  Glaucus'  spell, 
By  Leucothea's  lo-uely  hands. 
And  her  so?i  that  rules  the  ftrands. 
By   Thetis'  tinsel-ftippered  feet. 
And  the  songs  of  Sirens  szveet. 
By  dead  Parthenope's  dear  tomb. 
And  fair  Ligea's  golden  comb, 
WherevjitJi  ftje  fits  on  diamond  rocks, 
Sleeking  her  soft  alluring  locks. 
By  all  the  nymphs  that  nightly  dance 
Upon  thy  ftreams  ^vith  nvily  glance. 
Rise,  rise,  and  heave  thy  rosy  head 
From  tJiy  coral-paven  bed. 


And  bridle  in  thy  headlong  ivave. 
Till  thou  our  summons  ans-ivered  ha-ve. 
Lijlen  and  sa-ue. 


John  Milton. 


SONG. 

[i6}8.] 
I. 

JVmi.E  Morpheus  thus  does  gently  lay 
His  po-tuerful  charge  upon  each  part, 

Alaking  thy  spirits  even  obey 

The  filver  charms  of  his  dull  art ; 


/,  thy  Good  Angel,  from  thy  fide, 
As  smoke  doth  from  the  altar  rise. 

Making  no  noise  as  it  doth  glide, 

IVill  leave  thee  in  this  soft  surprise; 

III. 

And  from  the  clouds  nvill  fetch  thee  doivn 

A  holy  -uijion,  to  express 
Thy  right  ufito  art  earthly  crovjn ; 

No  poiver  can  make  this  kingdom  less. 


But  gently,  gently,  left  I  bring 
A  ftart  in  fleep  by  sudden  flight. 

Playing  aloof,  and  hovering. 
Till  I  am  loft  unto  the  fight. 


This  is  a  motion  Jlill  and  soft : 

So  free  from  noise  and  cry. 
That  Jo%)e  himself,  ivho  hears  a  thought, 

Kno-tus  not  avhcn  nve  pass  by. 

Henry   Killigrew. 


SONG. 

[163S.] 
1. 
Why  so  pale  and  -m an,  fond  lo'ver? 

Prit/ice  n.v}iy  so  pale? 
Will,  n.vhen  looking  nvell  ca7it  mo-ue  her. 
Looking  ill  preuail? 
Prithee  --vcliy  so  pale  ? 

II. 
Why  so  dull  and  mute,  young  finner  ? 

Prithee  nnhy  so  jnute? 
Will,  ''when  speaking  avell  caiit  nvin  her. 

Saying  ?iothing  do''t? 

Prithee  nvliy  so  mute? 

III. 
^it,  quit  fir  fjame,  this  luill  not  mo-'je. 

This  cannot  take  her; 
If  of  herself  fie  ivill  not  loue. 

Nothing  can  make  her: 

The  de-vil  take  her! 

Sir   John   Suckling, 


SONG. 

[1640?] 


Out  upon  it,  I  }ia~ce  lo-ved 
Three  tv/tole  days  together ; 

And  am  like  to  love  three  more. 
If  it  prove  fair  --weather ! 


Time  Jhall  ?noult  a~j:ay  his  nci/igs, 

Ere  he  /hall  disco-ver. 
In  the  nvhole  'njoide  ^vorld  again. 

Such  a  conjlant  lover. 


But  the  spite  on^t  is,  no  praise 

Is  due  at  all  to  me: 
Love  ivith  me  had  made  no  Jlays, 

Had  it  any  been  but  fie. 


Had  it  any  been  but  fie, 

And  that  very  face. 
There  had  been  at  leaft  ere  this 

A  dozen  dozen  in  her  place! 

Sir  John  Suckling. 


OF    A    MISTRESS 

OF    irHOSF.    AFFECTION    HE    WAS    DOUBTFUL. 
[1639.] 

What  though  -xvith  figures  I  Jhould  raise 

Abo'Ue  all  height  my  mijlress''  praise ; 

Calling  her  cheek  a  blujhiiig  rose. 

The  fair  eft  June  did  e'er  disclose ; 

Her  forehead,  lilies  ;    and  her  eyes. 

The  luminaries  of  the  Jkies : 

That  on  her  lips  ambrofia  gro-ivs. 

And  from  her  kijfes  neSlar  flo^ws  ? 

Too  great  hyperboles,  unless 

She  loojes  me,  Jhe  is  none  of  these. 

But  if  her  heart  and  her  defires 

Do  ans^wer  mine  ijjith  equal  fires. 

These  attributes  are  then  too  poor : 

She  is  all  these,  and  ten  times  more. 

Thomas   Nakbes. 


SONG. 

[1639.  J 
I. 

Unclose  those  eyelids,  and  outflnne 
The  brightness  of  the  breaking  day ! 

The  light  they  cover  is  di-vine  ,• 
Why  ftjould  it  Jade  so  soon  aavay  F 

Stars  njanift)  so,  and  day  appears ; 

The  Sufi's  so  dro-ivned  /'  the  morning's  tears. 


O,  let  not  sadness  cloud  this  beauty, 
Which  ij  you  lose  you'll  ne'er  reco-ver! 

It  is  not   Love's,  but  Sorro-ivs  duty, 
To  die  so  soon  for  a  dead  lover. 

Banijh,   O,  banijh  grief,  and  then 

Our  joys  'zvill  bring  our  hopes  again. 

Henry  Glapthornk. 


our    OF    THE    ITALIAN. 

[1640 .'] 

I. 

To  thy  lo'ver. 

Dear,  disconjer 
That  STueet  blujh  of  thine  that  fiameth 

( When  those  roses 

It  discloses) 
All  the  floivers  that  Nature  namcth. 

II. 

In  free  air 

Flo-vj  thy  hair. 
That  no  more  Summer  s  brjl  dreffes 

Be  beholden 

For  their  golden 
Locks  to  Phoebus'  flaming  trejfes. 

III. 

O  deliver 
Love  his  quiver  ; 
From  thy  eyes  he  Jhoots  his  arrovjs. 


Where  Apollo 
Cannot  follo^-Lu, 
Feathered  -ivith  his  mother  s  sparro^vs. 


O  envy  not 

(  That  nx3e  die  not) 
Those  dear  lips  nvhose  door  encloses 

All  the  Graces 

In  their  places, 
Brother  pearls,  and  Jijler  roses  ! 

V. 

From  these  treasures 

Of  ripe  pleasures 
One  bright  smile  to  clear  the  iveather : 

Earth  and  Jieauen, 

Thus  made  enjen. 
Both  -Tvill  be  good  friends  together. 


The  air  does  ivoo  thee, 

Winds  cling  to  thee; 
Might  a  ivord  once  fly  from  out  thee, 

Storm  and  thunder 

Wotild  fit  under. 
And  keep  filence  round  about  thee. 

VII. 

But  if  Nature's 
Common  creatures 
So  dear  glories  dare  not  bnrroiv ; 


let  thy  beauty 

Onjues  a  duty 

To  my  lo'ving,  lingering  sorronx). 

VIII. 

When  to  end  me 
Death  Jhall  send  me 

All  his  terrors  to  affright  me: 
Thine  eyes'  graces 
Gild  their  faces. 

And  those  terrors  fliall  delight  me. 


When  my  dying 

Life  is  flying. 
Those  s-uoeet  airs  that  often  flenu  me 

Shall  re~oi-ve  me. 

Or  reprieue  me. 
And  to  fnany  deaths  renexv  mc. 

Richard  Crashaw. 


DIRGE. 

[1640.] 

Noblest  bodies  are  but  gilded  clay. 

Put  a-ivay 
But  the  precious  Jhinitig  rind. 
The  inmoft  rottenness  remains  behind. 
Kings,  on  earth  though  gods  they  be. 
Yet  in  death  are  -vile  as  ive. 


He,  a  thousand  kings  before, 

Nonju  is  'Uajfal  unto  tnore. 

Vermin  no^cv  insulting  lie. 

And  dig  for  diamonds  in  each  eye ; 

Whiljl  the  sceptre-bearing  hand 

Cannot  their  inroads  wcithfland. 

Here  doth  one  in  odours  nvadc. 

By  the  regal  unSlion  made; 

While  another  dares  to  gnanv 

On  that  tongue,  his  peopWs  laxu. 

Fools,  ah !  fools  are  ive  that  so  contri-ue. 

And  do  ftri-ue. 
In  each  gaudy  ornament. 
Who  Jhall  his  corpse  in  the  bejl  difl)  present. 

Sicily  and  Naples  :    a  Tragedy. 


TO     CYNTHIA, 

ON    CO  N  C  EjiLM  E  NT    0  F  '  H  K  R     B  E  .1  C  T  T. 

[1641.] 

I. 

Do  not  conceal  thy  radiant  eyes. 
The  Jiar-light  of  sereneji  Jkies  ; 
Lejl,  ^wanting  of  their  heavenly  light. 
They  turn  to  Chaos"  endless  night ! 

II. 
Do  not  conceal  those  trcjfes  fair, 
The  filken  snares  of  thy  curled  hair ; 
Lejl,  finding  neither  gold  nor  ore. 
The  curious  filk-n.vorm  nxork  no  ?nore ! 


Do  not  conceal  those  breafts  of  thine. 
More  snoxv-ivhite  than  the  Apeiinine ; 
Left,  if  there  he  like  snoiv  atid  froji. 
The  lily  be  fore~cer  lofl  ! 


Do  not  conceal  that  fragrant  scent. 

Thy  breath,  ivhich  to  all  flo'Lvers  hath  lent 

Perfumes ;    lejl,  it  being  supprefl. 

No  spices  gro-ix!  in  all  the  Eaft ! 


Do  not  conceal  thy  heauenly  voice, 
IVhich  makes  the  hearts  of  gods  rejoice; 
Lejl,  mufic  hearing  no  such  thing. 
The  nightingale  forget  to  fing ! 


Do  not  conceal,  nor  yet  eclipse 

Thy  pearly  teeth  ivith  coral  lips; 

Lejl  that  the  seas  cease  to  bring  forth 

Gems  n.vhich  fro?n  thee  have  all  their  -vorth . 


Do  not  conceal  ?io  beauty,  grace. 
That  V  either  in  thy  mind  or  J'ace ; 
Lejl  virtue  overcome  by  vice 
Make  men  believe  no  Paradise! 

Sir   Francis  Kinaston. 


SONG. 
[1642.] 

Morpheus,  the  humble  God,  that  divells 
In  cottages  and  smoky  cells,  ' 

Hates  gilded  roofs,  and  beds  of  do-ucn  ; 
And  though  he  fears  no  prince''s  fronvn. 
Flies  from  the  circle  of  a  croxvn. 

Come,  I  say,  thou  poxverful  God, 
And  thy  leaden  char?ning  rod. 
Dipped  in  the  Lethean  lake. 
O'er  his  nvakeful  temples  Jhake, 
Leji  he  Jhould  Jleep,  and  neuer  •zvake. 

Nature,  alas  !    ^^vhy  art  thou  so 

Obliged  to  thy  greateji  foe  F 

Sleep,  that  is  thy  befi  repaft, 

Tet  of  death  it  bears  a  taftc. 

And  both  are  the  same  thing  at  lafl. 

Sir  John   Df.nham. 


ro    ALT  HE  A. 

FROM    PRISON. 

(1642.; 


When  Love  n.vith  unco> fined  ivi/igs 
Houers  'zvithin  my  gates; 

And  my  di-x>ine  Althea  brings 
To  luhisper  at  the  grates : 


Jf'/ien  I  He  tangled  in  her  hair. 

And  fettered  to  her  eye. 
The  birds,  that  ivanton  in  the  air, 

Knoiu  no  such  liberty. 

When  Jlozfing  cups  run  siviftly  round 

With  no  allaying   Thames, 
Our  careless  heads  nuith  roses  bound. 

Our  hearts  ^ith  loyal  flames ; 
IVhen  thirfty  grief  in  -Tvine  nx-e  Jleep, 

When  healths  and  draughts  go  free, 
Fi/hes,  that  tipple  in  the  deep, 

Kno'M  no  such  liberty. 

When,  like  committed  linnets,  I 

With  Jhriller  throat  Jhall  fing 
The  s-weetness,  mercy,  majejiy. 

And  glories  of  my   King ; 
When  I  /hall  'voice  aloud  ho-iv  good 

He  is,  ho'U)  great  Jhould  be. 
Enlarged  nvinds,  that  curl  the  flood, 

Kno-Tv  no  such  liberty. 

Stone  Tvalls  do  7iot  a  prison  make. 

Nor  iron  bars  a  cage; 
Minds  innocent  and  quiet  take 

That  for  an  hermitage : 
If  I  have  freedom  in  my  lo-ve. 

And  in  my  soul  am  free. 
Angels  alone,  that  soar  aboi'e. 

Enjoy  such  liberty. 


Richard  Lovf.lace. 


SONG. 

TO   LUCASTA.      going    to    the    IVJRS. 

[1646.] 

Tell  me  7iot,  stveet,  I  am  unk'mA, 

That  from  the  niainery 
Of  thy  chafte  breaft  and  quiet  mind 

To  luar  and  arms  I  fly. 

True,  a  nenu  mijlress  no^v  I  chase. 

The  fir II  foe  in  the  field ; 
And  -ivith  a  fironger  faith  embrace 

A  s~duord,  a  horse,  a  fijield.  * 

Yet  this  incotiftancy  is  such 

As  you  too  (hall  adore : 
I  could  not  lo-ue  thee,  dear,  so  7nuch, 

Lo'ved  I  not  Honour  more. 

Richard  Lovei.ack 


A    VALEDICTION. 

[1642?] 

Bid  me  not  go  ivhere  neitlier  sun  nor  /ho-ivers 

Do  make  or  cherifl)  floxvcrs  ; 
Where  discontented  things  in  sadness  lie. 
And  Nature  grieues  as  I. 
When  I  am  parted  fro?n  tlUse  eyes. 
From  nuhich  fny  better  day  doth  rise. 
Though  some  propitious  Poiuer 
Should  plant  me  in  a  bovver. 


Where  amotigjl  happy  lo-vers  I  might  see 

Ho-zv  Jhozvers  and  sunbeams  bring 
One  euerlajiing  Spring, 
Nor  at'OwA/  those  Jail,  nor  these  Jhine  forth  to  ?ne  : 
Nature  herself  to  him  is  lojl, 
Who  loseth  her  lie  honours  mojl. 
Then,  fairejl,  to  my  parting  'viezv  display 

Your  graces  all  in  one  full  day : 
Whose  bleffed  Jhapes  Vll  snatch  and  keep,  till  ^vlicn 

I  do  return  and  'viezv  agen : 
So  by  this  art  Fancy  fiall  Fortune  cross. 
And  lo-uers  li-ue  by  thinking  on  their  loss. 

William   Cartwright. 


ON    A    GIRDLE. 
[■64;.] 
That  ivhich  her  Jlender  nvaijl  cottfned. 
Shall  nonjj  my  joyful  temples  bind; 
No  monarch  but  •voould  gi'-ve  his  crotvn. 
His  arms  might  do  nvhat  this  has  done. 

It  ivas  my  heaven  s  cxtremeft  sphere. 
The  pale  'which  held  that  lo-uely  deer. 
My  joy,  my  grief,  my  hope,  my  love. 
Did  all  ^^vithifi  this  circle  mo-ue ! 

A  narro^M  cofnpass,  and  yet  there 
Dzvelt  allTliat^s  good,  and  all  that^s  fair. 
Giue  me  but  ^vhat  this  ribbon  bound. 
Take  all  the  reft  the  sun  goes  round. 

Edmund  V/aller. 


GO,    LOVELY    ROSE. 

[■64;.] 
I. 

Go,  lo-uely   Rose! 
'Tell  her  that  ijoajies  her  time  and  me. 

That  no-TO  /he  knonxis. 
When  I  resemble  her  to  thee, 
Hotv  s-iveet  and  fair  Jhe  seems  to  he. 


Tell  her  that  "s  young. 
And  Jhuns  to  haue  her  graces  spied. 

That  hadfl  thou  sprutig 
In  deserts,  auhere  no  ?nen  abide. 
Thou  muft  ha-x'e  uncommended  died. 


Stnall  is  the  avorth 
Of  beauty  from  the  light  retired ; 

Bid  her  come  forth. 
Suffer  herself  to  be  defired. 
And  not  blujh  so  to  be  admired. 


Then  die,  that  Jhe 
The  common  fate  of  all  things  rare 

May  read  in  thee; 
Hoiv  small  a  part  of  Time  they  flmre 
That  are  so  <zvondrous  snveet  and  fair ! 

Hdmuni)  Wai.lkr. 


rUE    PASSING  -  B EI.  I.. 
[1646.] 
H^iRK!   Iionx)  chimes  the  pajjing-bell, 
There^s  no  mufic  to  a  knell: 
All  the  other  sounds  ^ve  hear 
Flatter,  and  but  cheat  our  ear. 
This  doth  put  us  ftill  in  mind 
That  our  jlejh  mufl  be  reftgned, 
And  a  general  fdence  made. 
The  nvorld  be  muffled  in  a  Jhade. 
He  that  on  his  pilloiv  lies. 
Tear-embalmed  before  he  dies. 
Carries,  like  a  fieep,  his  life 
To  meet  the  sacrificer  s  knife. 
And  for  Eternity  is  prefl. 
Sad  bell-Tvether  to  the  refl. 


James  Shirley. 


SONG. 

L1659.] 


The  glories  of  our  blood  and  flate 

Are  Jhadon.vs,  not  subjlantial  things  j 
There  is  no  armour  againfl  Fate; 
Death  lays  his  icy  hand  on  kings: 
Sceptre  and  croivn 
Mufl  tumble  doivn. 
And  in  the  dufl  be  equal  made 
With  the  poor  crooked  scythe  and  spade. 


Some  men  nvitli  sivords  7>iaj  reap  the  field. 
And  plant  frejh  laurels  ^ivhere  they  kill; 
But  their  Jlrong  ner-ues  at  lafl  mull  jield  j 
They  tame  but  one  another  Jlill : 
Early  or  late 
They  Jloop  to  Fate, 
And  muft  give  up  their  murmuring  breath. 
When  they,  pale  captiues,  creep  to  death. 


The  garlands  nvither  o?i  your  brov.'. 

Then  boajl  no  more  your  mighty  deeds ; 
Upon  Death's  purple  altar  no-tv 
See,  -ivhere  the  --uidor  njiBim  bleeds: 
Your  heads  muft  come 
To  the  cold  tomb  ; 
Only  the  a£lions  of  the  jujl 
Smell  s--weet,  and  blojom  in  their  dull. 

James  Shirlkv. 


SONG. 

C  K  L  I  A     T  N     L  0  r  E. 

[.r,46.] 

I  FELT  my  heart,  and  found  a  fame. 
That  for  relief  and  ft)clter  came : 
I  entertained  the  treacherous  gucft. 
And  gave  it  ivelcome  in  jny  breaft. 


Poor  Celia  !   ivhither  ^-vilt  thou  go  ? 

To  cool  ill  jlreams,  or  freeze  in  sno-iv  ? 

Or  gentle  Zephyrus  entreat. 

To  chill  thy  fiames,  and  fan  thy  heat  F 

Perhaps  a  taper  s  fading  Ueams 

May  die  in  air,  or  quench  in  Jlreams ; 

But  love  is  a  myflerious  fire. 

Nor  can  in  air  or  ice  expire  : 

Nor  'Tvill  this  Phoenix  be  supprefl 

But  nuith  the  ruin  of  his  nejl. 

Martin   Lluellin. 


HONOUR. 

[1647.] 
I. 
She  lo-ves,  and  she  confejfes  too; 
There's  then  at  laji  no  more  to  do. 
The  happy  ^work's  entirely  done. 
Enter  the  tonvn  ivhich  thou  hajl  ^won ; 
The  fruits  of  conquejl  noiv  begin : 
lo   Triumphe !     Enter  in. 


What's  this,  ye  gods  !    tvhat  can  it  be? 
Remains  there  Jl ill  an  enemy  F 
Bold  Honour  jlands  up  in  the  gate. 
And  ivould  yet  capitulate. 
Haue  I  overcome  all  real  foes. 
And  Jhall  this  Phantom  me  oppose  F 


Noisy  Nothing  I   flalking  Shade  ! 

By  n.vhat  ^.vitchcraft  ivert  thou  made? 

Empty  cause  of  solid  harms  ! 

But  I  /ball  find  out  counter-charms' 

Thy  airy  De--uiljhip  to  remoi>e 

From  this  circle  here  of  Lo^e. 


Sure  I  fljall  rid  fnyself  of  thee, 

By  the  Night's  obscurity, 

And  obscurer  Secrecy. 

Unlike  to  e-uery  other  sprite. 

Thou  attempt]!!  not  men  /'  affright. 

Nor  appear^}  but  in  the  Light. 

Abraham  Cowlev. 


CHERR  V-  RIPE. 

[164S.J 

CHF.RRT-RrrF.,  ripc,  ripe,  I  cry. 
Full  and  fair  ones,  come  and  buy 
If  so  be  you  ajk  me  n.vhere 
They  do  grovj,  I  ans-xver.    There, 
Where'  my  Julia'' s  lips  do  smile; 
There'' s  the  land,  or  cherry-ijle. 
Whose  plantations  fully  jhon.v 
All  the  year  cohere  cherries  grozv. 

Robert  Hekrick. 


TO    MEADOirs. 

[1648.] 

I. 

Ye  ha-t'e  been  frejh  and  green, 
Ye  haue  been  filled  nvith  floivers ; 

And  ye  the  ijjalks  hanje  been 

Where  maids  haue  spent  their  hours. 

II. 
Ye  ha-ve  beheld  Ito^v  they 

With  ix'icker  arks  did  come. 
To  kiss  and  bear  a-ixay 

The  richer  conjcjlips  home. 

III. 
Y'at'e  heard  them  siveetly  Jing, 

And  seen  them  in  a  round: 
Each  'virgin,  like  a  Spring, 

With  honeysuckles  cronvned. 

IV. 

But  no-TV  ive  see  none  here 
Whose  Jil-oery  feet  did  tread. 

And  nvith  difheuelled  hair 
Adorned  this  smoother  mead. 


Like  unthrifts,  halving  spent 

Your  flock,  and  needy  gronun, 
Y^  are  left  here  to  lament 

Your  poor  eftates,  alone. 

Robert   Herp.ick. 


ro    PRIMROSES   FILLED   Ifiril  MORNING   DF.ir. 

[ir,4S., 

ll'iir  do  ye  n.vcep,  siveet  babes?      Can  tears 
Speak  grief  in  you. 
Who  ivere  but  born 
Jufl  as  the  ?noJel}  Morn 
Teemed  her  refrefiing  deic  ? 
Alas  !    ye  have  tiot  kno-ivn  that  fhoi-vcr 
That  tnars  a  floiver ; 
Nor  felt  tlf  unkind 
Breath  of  a  blajling  ijjind ; 
Nor  are  ye  n.vorn  ivith  years, 

Or  'zcarped,  as  -Tve, 
IFho  think  it  ftrange  to  see 
Such  pretty  floivers,  like  to  orphans  young, 
To  speak  by  tears  before  ye  ha=ve  a  tongue. 

Speak,  ivhimpering  younglings,  and  make  knoivn 
The  reason  ivhy 
Ye  droop  a?id  die. 
Is  it  for  luant  of  flee p. 
Or  childijh  lullaby? 
Or  that  ye  ha-x'e  not  seen  as  yet 
The  "violet  ? 
Or  brought  a  kiss 
From  that  s-weet  heart  to  this  ? 
No,  no,  this  sorrozv  f  oivn 
By  your  tears  /bed, 
ll'ould  have  this  lefiure  read: 
That  things  of  great  eft,  so  of  meanejl  -ivorth. 
Conceived  nvith  grief  are,  and  -with  tears  brought  forth 

Rcii]  HI     1 1  mxn  K 


ro    DAFFODILS. 

L  if>48  j 


Fair  daffodils,  ive  iveep  to  see 

You  hafle  azuny  so  soon: 
As  yet  the  early-rijhig  sun 
Has  not  attained  his  noon. 
Stay,  ftay. 
Until  the  hajling  day 

Has  run 
But  to  the  even-song; 
And,  ha-ving  prayed  together,  ive 
Will  go  -ivith  you  along. 


lie  have  jhort  time  to  Jlay  as  you, 

JVe  have  as  jhort  a   Spring ; 
As  quick  a  gro-iMth  to  meet  decay. 
As  you,  or  any  thing. 
We  die. 
As  your  hours  do,  and  dry 

Away 
Like  to  the  Summer  s  rain ; 
Or  as  the  pearls  of  morning  dew, 
Ne'er  to  be  found  again. 

RoBERl      HeRRICK. 


ro     BLOSSOMS. 

[1648.] 


Fair  pledges  of  a  fruitful  tree. 
Why  do  ye  fall  so  fajl  ? 
Tour  date  is  not  so  pajl, 

But  you  may  flay  yet  here  a^vhile, 
To  blujh  and  gently  smile. 
And  go  at  lajh 


What,  •ivere  ye  born  to  he 

An  hour  or  halps  delight. 
And  so  to  bid  good-night  ? 

"Tivas  pity  Nature  brought  ye  forth 

Merely  to  Jho-zu  your  nvorth, 

And  lose  you  quite. 


But  you  are  lo-vely  lea-es,  achrre  ive 
May  read  hoiv  soon  things  have 
Their  end,  though  neer  so  brave; 

And  after  they  have  fioi.vn  their  pride. 

Like  you,  anvhile,  they  glide 

Into  the  grave. 

RontRi    HfKKick-. 


rn   riRGiNs, 

r  O     M  .-t  K  E     M  U  C  H     OF     T  I  .U  F. . 
[1648.] 


Gather  ye  rose-buds  -ivhile  ye  may. 

Old  Time  is  ftill  a-flying, 
And  this  same  flon.uer  that  smiles  to-day, 

To-morrozv  -ivill  be  dying. 


The  glorious  lamp  of  Hea-cen,  the  Sun, 

The  higher  he's  a-gctting. 
The  sooner  ivill  his  race  be  run. 

And  nearer  he's  to  setting. 


That  age  is  beft  nvhich  is  the  firjl. 
When  youth  and  blood  are  tvarmer  ; 

But  being  spent,  the  nxorse,  and  n.vorJi 
Times  flill  succeed  the  former. 


Then  be  not  coy,  but  use  your  time. 

And  nvhile  ye  may,  go  marry ; 
For  having  loft  but  once  your  prime, 

Tou  may  foreuer  tarry. 

Robert  Hfrric:-; 


THE    NIGHT-PIECE,    TO    JULIA. 

[1648.J 
I. 
Her  eyes  the  glo--w-tvor?n  lend  thee. 
The  Jhooting  ftars  attend  thee  5 
And  the  el'ves  also. 
Whose  little  eyes  gloi.v 
Like  the  sparks  of  fre,  befriend  thee. 

II. 

No   Will-d'-tJL'-Wisp  mis-light  thee. 
Nor  snake  or  flo-TV-^i.vorm  bite  thee ; 

But  on,  on  thy  ivay. 

Not  making  a  flay. 
Since  ghoft  thcre^s  none  to  affright  thee. 

III. 

Let  tiot  the  dark  thee  cumber ; 

What  though  the  moon  does  Jlumber  ? 
The  flars  of  the  night 
Will  lend  thee  their  light, 

Like  tapers  clear  --ivithout  number. 


Then,    "Julia,  let  jne  ivoo  thee. 
Thus,  thus  to  come  unto  me: 

And  ^vhen  I  jhall  meet 

Thy  fil-very  feet. 
My  soul  ril  pour  into  thee. 

RonK.l.T     IllRUICIC. 


ro    THE    irtSTEKN    iriND. 

[1648.] 

Su'EET  tvejlern  iviud,  tvJiose  luck  it  is. 

Made  rival  ivit/i  the  air. 
To  gi-ve  Perenna's  lip  a  kiss. 

And  fan  her  <iL'anton  hair. 

Bring  me  but  one,  Fll  promise  thee, 

Inflead  of  common  JJjo^vers, 
Thy  'wings  Jhall  be  embalmed  by  me. 

And  all  beset  nvith  floivers. 

Robert   Herrick. 


TO    THE    irATER- NTMPHS 

DRINKING   AT   THE    FOUNTAIN. 

[1648.] 

I. 

Reach  ^vith  your  ^.vhiter  hands  to  me 

Some  cryjlal  of  the  spring. 
And  I  about  the  cup  Jhall  see 
Frejh  lilies  Jiourifnng. 


Or  else,  siveet  nymphs,  do  you  but  this — 

To  th'  glass  your  lips  incline, 
And  I  Jhall  see,  by  that  one  kiss. 

The  neater  turned  to  ovine! 

Robert   Herrick. 


ro    ELECrRA. 

LI64S.] 

I. 

/  DyiRE  not  ajlt  a  kiss, 
I  dare  not  beg  a  smile; 

LeJ},  ha-uing  that  or  this, 

I  migJit  groiu  proud  the  ivhile. 

II. 

No,  no,  the  utmojl  Jhare 

Of  my  dejire  Jhall  be. 
Only  to  kiss  the  air 

That  lately  kijfed  thee. 


Robert   Herrick. 


SONG. 

[1649?] 
I. 
Dear,  do  not  your  fair  beauty  ^vrong. 
In  thinking  ftill  you  are  too  young; 
The  rose  and  lilies  in  your  cheek 
Flourijh,  and  no  ?nore  ripeness  seek. 


Tour  cherry  lip,   red,  soft,  and  sxveet, 
Proclaims  such  fruit  for  tajle  mojl  ?neet  ; 
Then  lose  no  time,  for  Loue  has  nvings, 
And  flies  anvay  from  aged  things. 

Thomas   May. 


T  //  E    RET  R  E  A  T. 

[1650.  J 
HjiPPy  those  early  Jays,  ixj/ien  I 
Shine  J  in  m^  angel-infancy'. 
Before  I  underjlood  this  place 
Appointed  for  iiiy  second  race. 
Or  taught  my  soul  to  fancy  aught 
But  a  ivhite,  celeftial  thought  -. 
JVhen  yet  I  had  not  ivalked  aboz-e 
A  mile  or  tix'O  from  my  firjl  lo'Ve, 
And  looking  back,  at  that  Jhort  space. 
Could  see  a  glimpse  of  his  bright  face ; 
When  on  some  gilded  cloud,  or  flo~ver. 
My  gazing  soul  ^^voiild  d-Tvell  an  hour. 
And  in  those  nveaker  glories  spy 
Some  Jhado-ws  of  eternity ; 
Before  I  taught  my  tongue  to  -zL-ound 
My  conscience  ivith  a  fnful  sound. 
Or  had  the  black  art  to  dispense 
A  se-z>eral  Jin  to  e-very  sense. 
But  felt  through  all  this  flejhly  dress 
Bright  Jhoots  of  e'-verlaftingness. 
O  hozv  1  long  to  trazjel  back 
And  tread  again  that  ancient  track ! 
That  I  might  once  fnore  reach  that  plain. 
Where  firjl  I  left  ?ny  glorious  train  ; 
From  -zvhence  th"  enlighte7ied  spirit  sees 
That  Jhady  city  of  palm-trees. 
But  ah,  my  soul  ^vith  too  much  ftay 
Is  drunk,  and  flaggers  in  the  -zvay ! 


Some  men  a  fornxjard  motion  lonje. 
But  I  by  backiMard  Jleps  ^mouU  moue. 
And  -Tvheti  this  dujl  falls  to  the  urn, 
In  that  Jlate  I  came  return. 


Henry  Vaughan. 


THE    SHOirER. 

[1650?] 

Waters  abo-ve,  eternal  springs. 

The  de-uu  that  Jil-vers  the  Do-ve''s  ivings ! 

O  nvelcome,  -xvelcome  to  the  sad  I 

Gi-ue  dry  du/i  drink,  drink  that  makes  glad. 

Many  fair  e-uenings,  ?nany  flo-ivers 

Svjeetened  ^vith  rich  and  gentle  Jhoivers, 

Ha--ve  I  enjoyed ;    and  doivn  hwve  run 

Many  a  fine  and  jhining  sun : 

But  ne-uer,  till  this  happy  hour, 

IVas  blejl  v^itli  such  an  e-vening  /hoiuer ! 

Henky  Vaughan. 


SONG. 

[.650?] 

Come,  ye  joung  men,  come  along, 
With  your  mufic,  dance,  and  song ; 
Bring  your  Icxffes  in  your  hands. 
For  'tis  that  -ivhich   Loue  commands. 


Then  to  the  Maypole  come  a'lvcty, 
for  it  is  no^u  a  holiday. 

It  is  the  choice  time  of  the  year. 
For  the  'violets  noiv  appear; 
Nozu  the  rose  recei-irs  its  birth, 
And  pretty  primrose  decks  the  earth. 

Then  to  the  Maypole  come  anxiay. 

For  it  is  ho-lV  a  holiday. 

Here  each  bachelor  may  choose 
One  that  ivill  not  faith  abuse. 
Nor  repay  avith  cold  disdain, 
Lo've  that  Jhotild  be  lo--ved  again. 

Then  to  the  Maypole  come  ai.vay. 

For  it  is  noiv  a  holiday. 

And  vjhen  you  ivell  reckoned  have, 
IVhat  kijfes  you  your  siveethearts  gave. 
Take  them  all  again,  and  more. 
It  ivill  never  ?nake  them  poor. 

Then  to  the  Maypole  come  aivay. 

For  it  is  noiv  a  holiday. 

IVhen  you  thus  have  spent  the  tijnc. 

Till  the  day  be  paft  its  prime. 

To  your  beds  repair  at  night. 

And  dream  there  of  your  days  delight. 

Then  to  the  Maypole  come  a-vtrjy. 

For  it  is  now  a  holiday. 

Robert  Cox. 


rHE    EXEQUIES. 

[i6si.] 

Dr^ic  near, 
7'ou  louers  that  complain 
Of  Fortune  or  Disdain, 
And  to  my  afnes  lend  a  tear; 
Melt  the  hard  marble  njuith  your  groans. 
And  soften  the  relentless  Jhnes, 
Whose  cold  embraces  the  sad  subjeSl  hide, 
Of  all  Lo-x'e's  cruelties,  and  Beauty" s  pride. 

No  averse, 
No  epicedium  bring. 
Nor  peaceful  requiem  fing, 
"To  charm  the  terrors  of  my  hearse ; 
No  profane  numbers  mujl  floiu  near 
The  sacred  filence  that  dnvells  here. 
Fall  griefs  are  dumb ;    softly,   O,  softly  mourn, 
Lejl  you  dijlurb  the  peace  attends  my  urn. 

Yet  Jlre^v 
Upon  my  dismal  gra-ue 
Such  offerings  as  you  lia-ve. 
Forsaken  cypress  and  sad  ye-xv ; 
For  kinder  Jloiuers  can  take  no  birth. 
Or  gronjoth,  from  such  unhappy  earth. 
Weep  only  o'er  my  duft,  and  say.   Here  lies 
To  Love  and  Fate  an  equal  sacrifice. 

Thomas  SiANi.fv. 


LOVE    ONCE,    LOVE    EVER. 

[1651.] 

Shall  /,  hopeless,  then  pursue 

A  fair  Jhadonv  that  Jiill  flies  me  F 

Shall  I  Jiill  adore,  and  ivoo 

A  proud  heart  that  does  despise  me  ? 

I  a  conjlant  lo-ue  tnay  so. 

But,  alas  !   a  fruitless  Jho-Tc. 

Shall  I  by  the  erring  light 

Of  t-Tvo  crojer  Jjars  Jiill  sail  ? 
That  do  Jhine,  but  jhine  in  spite. 

Not  to  guide,  but  make  me  fail  ? 
I  a  ivandering  course  tnay  fteer. 
But  the  harbour  ne'er  come  near. 

JVhilJl  these  thoughts  my  soul  pojfess, 

Reason  pajjion  ivould  o''ersn.vay. 
Bidding  me  my  flames  suppress. 

Or  di--vert  some  other  'ivay : 
But  a.vhat  reason  ^vould  pursue. 
That  my  heart  runs  counter  to. 

So  a  pilot,  bent  to  make 

Search  for  some  unj'ound-out  land. 
Does  ivith  him  the  magnet  take. 

Sailing  to  the  unknoivn  J} rand : 
But  that,  fleer  <which  nvay  he  n.vill. 
To  the  lo'ued  North  poiftts  ftill. 

Sir  Edwakd  Shzrbuknk. 


SONG. 

He's  great  tJiat  rnaflers  his  onxin  soul. 

As  he  avhose  ?iod  Jhakes  either  Pole. 

Not  he  that  kings  in  chains  can  bring. 

But  that  subdues  himself  s  a  king; 

That^s  enjer  in  himself  at  home. 

And  ne'er  lets  his  queen.   Reason,  roam, 

On  'whom  all  paJfio?is  ivaiting  Jland, 

As  handmaids  on  their  lady's  hand. 

He  o'er  himself  triufnphing  firfl. 

Dares  Chance  and  En-uy  do  their  nxiorjl; 

And  keeping  Jlill  his  onvn  e-uen  height. 

Fall  Fortune  hea-uy,  fall  Jhe  light. 

He  HI  never  inake  to  th"  jlanders  by 

Too  lo-TV  a  7noan,  or  haughty  cry; 

But  '-wisely  can  her  fanwning  flight. 

And  then  as  branjely  scorn  her  spite. 

Who  can  deny  that  such  a  one 

Pojfejfes  all  things,  or  nvants  none? 

And  ^vhich  o'  th"  t^wo  ivould  you  nvijl)  firfl. 

Still  to  hanje  drink,  or  ne"er  to  thirfl? 

RoBKKT  Baron. 


THE    ANGLER'S    IF  I S  H . 

[if>S5-i 
I. 

/  IN  these  floiwery  meads  n.vould  be: 
These  cryjlal  Jlrea?ns  Jhould  solace  me ; 


To  ^Lv/iose  harmonious  bubbling  noise 
1  'wit/i  my  angle  ncouLl  rejoice: 
Sit  here,  and  see  the  turtle-do-oe 
Court  his  cliajle  mate  to  a£ls  of  love. 


Or,  on  that  bank,  feci  the  ivc/l  ivind 
Breathe  health  and  plenty;   please  my  mind 
To  see  s-Tveet  deix>-drops  kiss  these  fiotvers, 
And  then,  ivafied  off  by  April  Jho-Mcrs : 

Here,  hear  my  Kenna  fmg  a  song ; 

There,  see  a  blackbird  feed  her  young ; 


Or  a  le~cerock  build  her  nejl  ^ 
Here,  giue  my  nveary  spirits  rejl. 
And  raise  my  loi.v-pitched  thoughts  above 
Earth,  or  ^.vhat  poor  mortals  love: 

Thus  free  from  laiv-suits,  and  the  noise 
Of  princes'  courts,   I  --'jould  rejoice. 


Or,  i.vith  my  Bryan,  and  a  book. 
Loiter  long  days  near  Shanjoford  brook  .- 
There  fit  by  him,  and  eat  ?ny  meat, 
*  There  see  the  sun  both  rise  and  set : 
There  bid  good-morning  to  next  day. 
There  meditate  my  time  a^vay  .- 
And  angle  on,  and  beg  to  ha've 
A  qv.iet  paffage  to  a  --welcome  grave. 

IzAAK   Walton. 


126 


AMINTOR^S    IVELL-A-DAT. 

Chloris,  7W-ZU  tJioii  art  Jlcd  aiuay, 

Arnintor  s  jheep  are  gone  aj]raj. 

And  all  the  joy  he  took  to  see 

His  pretty  lambs  run  after  thee. 
Is  gone,  is  gone,  and  he  airway 
Sings  7iothing  7ion.v  but  ivell-a-day ! 

His  oat £71  pipe,  that  in  thy  praise 
Was  --ivont  to  jiiig  such  roundelays. 
Is  throivn  azvay,  and  not  a  stvain 
Dares  pipe,  or  Jing,  -ivithin  his  plain ; 
^Tis  death  for  any  nonjo  to  say 
One  nvord  to  him  but  nvell-a-day ! 

The  May-pole  ivhere  thy  little  feet 

So  roundly  did  in  measures  meet. 

Is  broken  dozv7i,  and  tio  content 

Comes  near  Amintor  Jince  you  ivent. 
All  that  I  e-ver  heard  him  say, 
Was  CJtloris,   Chloris,  nvell-a-day ! 

Upon  these  banks  you  used  to  tread, 
He  ever  fince  hath  lain  his  head. 
And  nvhispered  there  such  pining  ivo^ 
As  7iot  a  blade  of  grass  ivill  grozv. 

O  Chloris,   Chloris,  come  aivay, 
•    And  hear  Ami/itors  nvell-a-day  ' 

n.     liUGHFS. 


TO    AMANDA, 

L  F.  A  f^  I  N  G     HIM     ALONE. 
[■65}.] 

irHAt  hufiness  calls  thee  hence,  and  calls  not  >ne  'f 
My  bufiness  euer  is  to  -zL-ait  on  thee  j 
Therefore  ^where'er  jou  go, 

I  muj}  go  too  ; 
Whatever  your  hufiness  is. 

Be  it  that,  or  this. 
Vet  fill  my  bufiness  is  to  "zvait  on  you. 
Nay,  prithee,  my  deareft,  -ivhy 

So  coy  and  fy  ? 
Yes,  yes,  you,  ^11  come  agen. 

But,  prithee,  ivhen  ? 
Here  mufl  I  mope  alone, 

Whiljl  you  some  other  love. 

Or,  in  your  cabinet  above. 
Some  letters  doat  upon. 
Which  teach  you  ho-M  to  say  me  Nay. 
But  knonxi,  Amanda,  if  too  long  you  flay. 
My  soul  fall  vanif  into  air. 
And  haunt  and  dodge  thee  euery-xvhere. 
''Tis  fit  ivhe?t  thou  takfl  Heauen  from  me. 
Thou  take  at  leaf  my  soul  ^ivith  'thee. 

N.     HOOKES. 


SONG. 

[■654.J 

Solitude,  of  friends  the  bejl, 

An  J  the  bejl  companion  ; 

Mother  of  truths,  and  brought  at  leajl 

Euery  day  to  bed  of  one ; 

In  this  flo-iveiy  rnanjion 

I  contemplate  ho-iv  the  rose 

Stands  upo7i  thorns,  hoiu  quickly  goes 

The  dismaying  jejfamine : 

Only  the  soul,  nvliich  is  divine, 

No  decay  of  beauty  iv/oiw. 

The  World  is  Beauty  s  Mirror.     Flonvers, 

In  their  firfl  ^virgin  purity. 

Flatterers  both  of  the  7iose  and  eye — 

To  I  e  cropped  by  paramours 

Is  their  bejl  of  dejliny  : 

And  those  nice  darlings  of  the  land, 

IVhich  seemed  Siea-verCs  painted  bo-iu  to  scorn. 

And  bloomed  the  eti'vy  of  the  morn, 

Are  the  gay  trophy  of  a  hand. 

Sir    Richard   I-'anshaw, 


SONG. 

[1654.] 
STILL-BORN  Silence,  thou  that  art 
Floodgate  of  the  deeper  heart  j 
Offspring  of  a  hea-uenly  kind ; 
Froji  o'  th""  mouth,  and  tha-iv  0"  th^  mind; 
Secrecy's  confident,  and  he 
That  makes  religion  Myjierj : 
Admiration  s  speaking"]!  tongue, — 
Leaue  thy  desert  Jhades,  among 
Re-verend  hermits"  hallonved  cells. 
Where  retired" Jl  De-uotion  dive  Us : 
With  thy  enthufiasyns  come  j 
Seize  this  maid,  and  make  her  dumb. 

Richard   Flecknoe. 


ON   CM  I.  ORIS    WALKING    IN    THE   SNOW. 
[■654.] 
/  SAtt^  fair  Chloris  nvalk  alone. 
When  feathered  rain  came  softly  doivn  ; 
Then  Jo've  descended  from  his  toiver. 
To  nuoo  her  in  a  feluer  Jhonxer. 
The  ijjanton  sno~uj  fle-w  to  her  breajl. 
Like  little  birds  into  their  neft; 
But  ouercome  ntjith  ^whiteness  there. 
For  grief  it  thaived  into  a  tear : 
Then  falling  donun  her  garment  Item, 
To  deck  her,  froze  into  a  gem. 

Wit's  Recreations. 


SONG. 

[>6S7.] 
I. 

Tell  me  no  more  honv  fair  Jhe  is, 
I  /lax'e  no  mind  to  hear 

The  jlory  of  that  diftatit  bliss 
I  ne-uer  Jhall  come  near : 

By  sad  experience  I  hanje  found 

That  her  perfetlion  is  my  avound. 


And  tell  me  not  hoi.v  fond  I  am 

To  tempt  a  daring  fate. 
From  ivhence  no  triumph  e^'er  came. 

But  to  repent  too  late: 
There  is  some  hope  ere  long  I  jnay 
In  filence  dote  myself  a-ixjay. 


I  ajk  no  pity,  lo-ve,  from  thee, 

Nor  nvill  thy  jujlice  blame. 
So  that  thou  n.vilt  not  en'vy  me 

The  glory  of  my  fla?ne : 
Which  cronvns  ?ny  heart  ivhene'cr  it  dies. 
In  that  it  falls  her  sacrifice. 

Henrv   King,    Biftjop  of  Chichrjh 


FAIR  r    SONG. 

m 

[1658.] 


Come,  folloaju,  follo-iv  7ne, 
Tou,  fairy  el'ves  that  be. 
Which  circle  on  the  green. 
Come,  follonxi  Mab,  your  ^leen. 
Hand  in  hand  let''s  dance  around. 
For  this  place  is  fairy  ground. 

When  ?nortals  are  at  reji. 

And  snoring  in  their  nejl. 

Unheard,  and  unespied. 

Through  keyholes  ive  do  glide; 
Ouer  tables,  fools,  and  Jhel-ues, 
We  trip  it  -Tuith  our  fairy  eiues. 

And  if  the  house  be  foul 
With  platter,  dijh,  or  bonvl. 
Up  fairs  ive  nimbly  creep. 
And  find  the  fluts  afleep  : 

There  ive  pinch  their  arms  and  thighs ; 

None  escapes,  nor  none  espies. 

But  if  the  house  he  s-ivept, 
And  from  uncleatiness  kept. 
We  praise  the  household  maid. 
And  duly  Jhe  is  paid  j 

For  ive  use,  before  nve  go. 

To  drop  a  teller  in  her  Jhoe. 


upon  a  muJljfooTns  head 

Our  table-cloth  ^ve  spread  ^ 

A  grain  of  rye  or  njuheat 

Is  nianchet  ivhich  nve  eat; 
Pearly  drops  of  denv  ixe  drink. 
In '  acorti-cups  filed  to  the  brink. 

The  brains  of  nightingales. 

With  unSluous  fat  of  snails, 

Bet-iveen  tivo  cockles  jlenjoed. 

Is  meat  that^s  eafly  che-ived; 
Tails  of  ivorms,  and  marronxi  of  mice. 
Do  make  a  difi  that^s  ^vondrous  nice. 

The  grasshopper,  gnat,  and  fly, 

Ser-ve  us  for  our  minjlrelsy ; 

Grace  said,  •vae  dance  anvhile, 

A7td  so  the  time  beguile; 
And  if  the  moon  doth  hide  her  head. 
The  glo-zv-ivorm  lights  us  home  to  bed. 

On  tops  of  denvy  grass 

So  nimbly  do  ive  pass. 

The  young  and  tender  flalk 

Ne''er  bends  nvhen  nve  do  ivalk : 
Tet  in  the  morning  may  be  seen 
Where  nxie  the  night  before  ha've  been. 

Mysteries  of  Love  and  Eloquence. 


SONG. 

[1660.] 

Cupid  all  his  arts  did  pro^e 
To  in-Tjite  my  heart  to  lo-ue ; 
But  I  airways  did  delay 
His  mild  summojis  to  obey, 
Being  deaf  to  all  his  charms. 
Straight  the  god  ajfumes  his  arms: 
With  his  boiv  and  qui-uer,  he 
Takes  the  field  to  duel  me. 
Armed  like  Achilles,  I 
With  my  Jlneld  alone  defy 
His  bold  challenge ;    as  he  caji 
His  golden  darts,  I  as  fajl 
Catched  his  arro-ius  in  my  Jhield, 
Till  I  made  hi?n  league  the  field : 
Fretting  a?id  disarmed  then. 
The  angry  god  returns  agen 
All  his  Jlames  ;    ''ftead  of  a  dart, 
Thronxjs  himself  into  my  heart: 
Useless  I  my  Jlneld  require, 
JVhen  the  fort  is  all  on  fire ; 
I  in  'vain  the  field  did  <u}in, 
Noxv  the  enemy^s  nvithin. 
Thus  betrayed,  at  lafl  I  cry, 
Loue,  thou  haj}  the  njiSlory. 


Thomas  Ford. 


ro     THE    INCONSTANT    CYNTHIA. 

[i65o.] 
I. 

Tell  me  once,  dear,  ko-xv  it  does  pro-ue 

That  I  so  Tniick  foj-s-ivorn  could  he  s' 

I  never  s-ivore  al^vays  to  lo-ue, 

I  only  'vo-ived  Jiill  to  lo've  thee. 

And  art  thou  no~M  ^what  thou  ivert  then, 
Unsnvorn  unto  by  other  men  F 


In  thy  fair  breajl,  and  once-fair  soul, 
I  thought  my  'vo-tvs  ivere  'zvrit  alone  i 
But  others^  oaths  so  blurred  the  scroll. 
That  I  710  more  could  read  my  oivn. 
And  am  I  fill  obliged  to  pay. 
When  you  had  throxvn  the  bond  a-ivay  F 


Nor  mufi  nxje  only  part  in  joy. 
Our  tears  as  ixiell  mufl  be  unkind: 
Weep  you,  that  could  such  truth  defray. 
And  I  that  could  such  falseness  find. 

Thus  nve  mufl  unconcerned  remain 

In  our  divided  joys  and  pain. 

Tet  ive  may  love,  but  on  this  different  score, 
Tou,  vjhat  I  am,  I,  'what  you  nverc  before. 

SlU     RoUEKT     HoWAHD. 


SONG. 

[i66i.] 
I. 
Come,  Somtius,  ^Mith  thy  potent  c/iarms. 
And  seize  this  captive  in  thy  arms; 
And  sTveetly  drop  on  euery  sense 
Thy  soul-ref re  thing  influence. 
His  fight,  S7nell,  hearing,  touch,  and  tajie. 
Unto  thy  peace  do  thou  bind  fajL 

II. 
On  ^ujorking  brains,  at  school  all  day. 
At  night  thou  doft  befto^w  a  play; 
And  troubled  minds  thou  dofl  set  free ; 
Thou  mak  fl  both  friends  and  foes  agree : 
All  are  alike,  nvho  live  by  breath. 
In  thee,  and  in  thy  brother  Death. 

Phii-onax  Loveicin. 


SONG. 

[1664.] 

I. 
Ladies,  though  to  your  conquerifig  eyes 
Lo-ue  oives  his  chiefejl  histories. 
And  borronvs  those  bright  arms  from  you 
With  nuhich  he  does  the  njuorld  subdue; 
Yet  you  yourselves  are  not  above 
The  empire  nor  the  griefs  of  lo-ve. 

Ij6 


Then  rack  not  lo~cers  ivitlt  disdain. 
Left  Lo-ue  on  you  re^venge  their  pain ; 
You  are  not  free  because  you  We  fair. 
The  boy  did  not  his  mother  spare; 
Though  beauty  be  a  killing  dart. 
It  is  no  armour  for  the  heart. 

Sir  George   Etherege. 


THE    RESOLVE. 

[1664.] 
I. 
Tf.ll  me  not  of  a  face  tltnt^s  fair. 

Nor  lip  nor  cheek  that's  red; 
Nor  of  the  trcjj'es  of  her  hair. 

Nor  curls  in  order  laid: 
Nor  of  a  rare  seraphic  •'voice. 

That  like  an  angel  fings : 
Though  if  I  'were  to  take  my  choice, 

I  'Tvould  ha-ve  all  these  things. 
But  if  thou  ■luilt  have  me  love. 

And  it  muft  be  a  ftje. 
The  only  argument  can  mo-ve, 

Li,  that  ftie  -zvill  loue  me. 


The  glories  of  your  ladies  be 
But  metaphors  of  things ; 

And  but  resemble  n.vhat  tve  see 
Each  com7non  objeil  brings. 


Roses  out-red  their  lips  and  cheeks. 

Lilies  their  ivhiteness  jlain  : 
If'hat  fool  is  he  that  Jhado-ivs  seeks. 

And  may  the  sub/lance  gain  ? 
Then  if  thou  'It  have  me  lo'oe  a  lass. 

Let  it  he  one  that's  kind; 
Else  /';«  a  ser-rmnt  to  the  glass 

That's  avith   Canary  lined. 

Alexander  Brome. 


ON    CLARET. 

[1664.] 

JViTHiN  this  bottle's  to  he  seen 
A  scarlet  liquor,  that  has  been 

Born  of  the  royal  Fine ; 
M'e  hut  nick-name  it  n.vhen  ive  call 
It  Gods'  drink,  ivho  drink  none  at  all- 
No  higher  name  than   Wine. 

'Tis  ladies'  liquor:    here  cue  migJtt 
Feajl  both  his  eye  and  appetite. 

With  beauty  ajid  nvith  tafle ; 
Cherries  and  roses,  nvhich  you  seek 
Upon  your  mijhess'  lip  and  cheek, 

Are  here  together  placed. 

Phyficians  may  prescribe  their  ivhey. 
To  purge  our  reins  and  brains  a-iMay, 
And  clarify  the  blood; 

IJ8 


That  cures  one  sickness  ivitk  another,  % 

This  routs  by  i^vholesale  altogether. 
And  dro-ivHS  them  in  a  flood. 

This  poets  makes,  else  hoiv  could  I 
Thus  ramble  into  poetry. 

Nay,  and  ^vrite  sonnets  too  F 
If  there's  such  po-zuer  in  junior  tvines, 
To  fnake  one  ojenture  upon  lines, 

WJiat  could  Canary  do  ? 

Then  squeeze  the  'veffefs  bo'ivels  out. 
And  deal  it  faithfully  about, — 

Cro-ivn  each  hand  'zvit/t  a  brimmer : 
Since  njue're  to  pass  through  this  Red  Sea, 
Our  noses  fnall  our  pilots  be. 

And  C'-very  soul  a  sivimmer ! 

Alexander  Brome. 


SONG. 

THE     SOLDIER     GOING     TO     THE     FIELD. 

[:666?J 

Preserve  thy  fighs,  unthrifty  girl. 

To  purify  the  air: 
Thy  tears  to  thread  injlead  of  pearl 
On  bracelets  of  thy  hair. 

Th-e  trumpet  rnakcs  the  echo  hoarse. 
And  ivakes  the  louder  drum ; 

Expense  of  grief  gains  no  remorse. 
When  sorro'w  Jhould  be  dumb. 


For  I  mufl  go  ^.vhere  lazy  Peace 

tVill  hide  her  droivsy  head, 
And,  for  the  sport  of  kings,  increase 

The  7iumber  of  the  dead ! 

But  firjl  ril  chide  thy  cruel  theft. 

Can  I  in  ijuar  delight. 
If  ho  being  of  my  heart  bereft 

Can  ha-ue  no  heart  to  fight  ? 

Thou  kno=ivyi  the  sacred  la-ivs  of  old 

Ordained  a  thief  Jhould  pay. 
To  quit  him  of  his  theft,  seven-fold 

What  he  had  ftolen  aivay. 

Thy  payment  Jhall  but  double  be : 

O  then  nxiith  speed  refign 
My  o-ivn  seduced  heart  to  me. 

Accompanied  ^vith  thine. 

Sir  William  Davenant. 


SONG. 

[1666?] 


The  lark  fioiv  leaves  his  ijjatery  neft. 
And  climbing  Jhakes  his  deixiy  njjings  ; 

He  takes  this  vuindoiu  for  the  Eafl, 
And  to  implore  your  light  he  fings. 

Anvake,  aiuake,  the  morn  nxiill  never  rise 

Till  Jhe  can  dress  her  beauty  at  your  eyes. 
140 


The  merchant  bo-ivs  unto  the  seaman  s  j}ar. 
The  ploughman  from  the  sun  his  season  takes  j 

But  jltll  the  louer  luonders  tvhat  they  are, 
Who  look  for  day  before  his  ?nillress  -XLukes. 

A^vake,  a-xvake,  break  through  your  veils  of  laxun, 

Then  Jra-iu  your  curtains,  and  begin  the  daxvn. 

S.R    WiLr.IAM    DavENAN  T. 


TO    CHLORIS. 

[1670 'J 

Fareivkll,  my  s-Tveet,  until  I  come, 
Impro-ved  in  fnerit,  for  thy  sake. 

With  charaBers  of  honour  home. 

Such  as  thou  catijl  not  then  but  take. 

To  loyalty  my  lo-ue  77iuj}  bo-iv, 
My  honour  too  calls  to  the  field. 

Where,  for  a  ladys  bujk,  I  noiv 
Mujl  keen  and  flurdy  iron  n.vield. 

Yet,  ivhe?i  I  rujh  into  those  arms. 
Where  death  and  danger  do  combine, 

I  Jhall  less  subjeSi  be  to  harms, 

Than  to  those  killing  eyes  of  thine. 

Since  I  could  li-ve  in  thy  disdain. 
Thou  art  so  far  become  my  Fate, 

That  I  by  nothing  can  be  Jlain, 
Until  thy  sentence  speaks  my  date. 


But  if  I  seem  to  fall  in  'zvar, 

T'  excuse  the  murJer  you  commit, 

Be  to  7tiy  memory  jujl,  so  far 

As  in  thy  lieart  t"  acknoivledge  it. 

That''s  all  I  ajk ;    ivhich  thou  mujl  giue 
To  him,  that,  dying,  takes  a  pride 

It  is  for  thee,  and  ^vould  not  li-ue. 
Sole  Prince  of  all  the  nvorld  befide. 

C:iARLES  Cotton. 


SONG. 

[1670?] 

I. 
Phillis,  men  say  that  all  ?ny  ^-o^ws 

Are  to  thy  fortune  paid ; 
Alas !   my  heart  he  little  knoivs 

Who  thinks  my  love  a  trade. 

II. 
Were  I  of  all  these  nvoods  the  lord. 

One  berry  from  thy  hand 
More  real  pleasure  n.i:ould  afford 

Than  all  fny  large  com?nand. 

III. 
My  humble  lo-ue  has  learned  to  li-ve 

On  nvhat  the  ?zicef}  maid. 
Without  a  conscious  hlujh,  may  give 
Beneath  the  myrtle-Jbade. 

Sir   Charles  S:-.dley. 


SONG. 

[1670?] 

Nor,   Celia,  that  I  jujler  am. 

Or  better  than  the  reft. 
For  I  nvould  change  each  hour  like  them. 

Were  not  my  heart  at  reft. 

But  I  am  tied  to  'very  thee. 
By  e-Tjery  thought  I  ha--ve ; 

Thy  face  I  only  care  to  see. 
Thy  heart  1  only  crat'e. 

All  that  in  ^voman  is  adored 
In  thy  dear  self  I  find ; 

For  the  luhole  sex  can  but  afford 
The  handsome,  and  the  kind. 

Why  then  ftjould  I  seek  farther  (lore. 

And  ftill  make  lo-ue  ane^v? 

When  change  itself  can  give  no  more, 

'Tis  easy  to  be  true. 

Sir  Charlk.  Skuley. 

-*- 

OUT    OF    LTCOrilRON. 

(,670?; 

What  ftjall  become  of  Man  so  avise, 

When  he  dies? 

None  can  tell 
Whether  he  goes  to   Ilea-ven  or   Hell: 

145 

Or,  after  a  feixi  moments  dear. 
He  disappear. 
And  at  lafl 
Perijh  entirely  like  a  beaji. 
But  tvomen,  nvine,  and  mirth,  ice  knoix:. 
Are  all  the  joys  he  has  beloTv  ,• 
Then  let  us  ply  those  joys  nve  ha-ve, 
^Tis  'vain  to  think  beyond  the  graue. 
Out  of  our  reach  the  gods  haue  laid 

Of  time  to  come  the  event. 
And  laugh  to  see  the  fools  afraid 
Of  ichat  the  hna-ues  invent. 

Sir   Chari.es  Sedley. 


SONG. 
[1671.] 


Co.ME,  Chloris,  hie  -ive  to  the  ho-cver. 
To  sport  us  ere  the  day  be  done: 

Such  is  thy  ponver  that  every  flo^ver 
Will  ope  to  thee  as  to  the  sun. 


And  if  a  floiver  but  chance  to  die 

With  my  fighs"  blajl,  or  mine  eyes'  rain. 

Thou  canjl  revise  it  luith  thine  eye, 
jind  ivith  thy  breath  make  s-veet  again. 


The  'Tvanton  suckling,  a>id  the  -vine, 

IVill  Jlri'ue  for  th'  honour,  nuho  Jirjl  tnay 

With  their  green  arms  encircle  thine. 
To  keep  the  burning  sun  aivay. 

The  Academy  of  Compliments. 


LOVE'S    BRAFO. 

[1674.J 

IVht  Jhould  n.ije  murmur,  njuhy  repine, 

Phyllis,  at  thy  fate,  or  mine  ? 
Like  prisoners,  -ivhy  do  ive  these  fetters  /hake. 

Which  neither  thou,  ttor  I,  can  break? 
There  is  a  better  ivay  to  baffle  Fate, 

If  mortals  -Tvould  but  mind  it. 
And  "'tis  not  hard  to  find  it : 
Who   -would  be  happy,  mujl  be  desperate. 

He  muft  despise  those  Jlars  that  fright 
Only  fools  that  dread  the  night ; 

Time  and  (Chance  lie  mull  nut-bra-ve ; 

He  that  crouches  is  their  Jla-ve. 

Thus  the  '-wise  Pagans,  ill  at  ease, 
Bra-vely  chaflised  their  surly   Deities. 

Thomas    I'iaiman. 


SONG. 
[■67;.] 
Cupid,  I  scorn  to  beg  the  art 
From  thy  imaginary  throne. 
To  learn  to  nvound  a?iothers  heart. 
Or  ho-iv  to  heal  fny  oxvn. 

If  Jhe  be  coy,  my  airy  mind 

Brooks  not  a  fiege  ;    if  jT^e  be  kind. 

She  proues  my  scorn  that  'zvas  my  ivonder; 

For  toivns  that  yield  I  hate  to  plunder. 

Lo--ve  is  a  game;    hearts  are  the  prize; 
Pride  keeps  the  flakes,  art  throzvs  the  dice ; 

When  either^ s  --voti. 

The  game  is  done. 
Loue  is  a  co-ivard,  hunts  the  flying  prey. 
But  ivhen  it  once  flands  flill,   Lot'e  runs  anxjay. 

Sir  Francis  Fane. 


UNCER  TAIN    LOVE. 

[1676.] 

The  labouring  man  that  plants  atid  so^ws. 

His  certain  times  of  profit  kno-ivs ; 

Seamen  the  roughefl  tempefl  scorn. 

Hoping  at  lajl  a  rich  return. 

But  my  too  much  lo-ued  Cello's  mind 

Is  more  inconflant  and  unkind 

Than  flormy  njueather,  sea,  or  -Lvind. 


146 


Noiv  ivith  ajfured  hope  raised  high, 
I  think  no  man  so  blejl  as  I ; 
Hope,  that  a  dying  saint  may  o-ucn, 
To  see  and  hear  her  speak  alone. 
What  if  I  snatch  one  kiss,  or  more  F 
Where  Heaven  gi-ues  a  i.vealthy  Jlore, 
""Tis  to  be  bounteous  to  the  poor. 

But  ere  my  sivifteji  thought  can  thence 

Con--uey  a  blejfing  to  my  sense. 

My  hope  like  fairy  treasure  "s  gone. 

Although  I  never  made  it  kno^wn. 

Frojn  all  untruth  my  heart  is  clean. 

No  other  love  can  enter  in ; 

71?/   Celiacs  ne'er  avill  come  agen. 

Thomas  Dufff.tt. 


rHE    MOWER 


TO    THE 

[1677 f] 


GLOW    WORMS. 


Te  living  lamps,  by  vohose  dear  light 
The  nightingale  does  fit  so  late. 
And  ftudying  all  the  summer  night. 
Her  matchless  songs  does  meditate; 

Te  coufitry  comets,  that  portend 
No  ^uar  nor  prince's  funeral. 
Shining  unto  no  other  end 
Than  to  presage  the  grass's  fall ; 


Te  gloTV-nvorms,  ixJiose  officious  flame 
To  jvaudering  mo-i.vers  jho-ws  the  ivay, 
That  in  the  night  hanje  lojl  their  aim, 
And  after  foolijh  fires  do  ftray : 

Your  courteous  lights  in  --vain  ye  ivafie, 
Since  Juliana  here  is  conic; 
For  Jhe  my  mind  hath  so  displaced, 
That  I  Jhall  never  find  my  home. 

Andrew   Marvell. 


LOl^E    AND    LIFE. 

[1678?] 
All  my  pafi  life  is  7nine  no  more. 

The  flying  hours  are  gone ; 
Like  tranfitory  dreams  ginien  o'er. 
Whose  images  are  kept  in  flore 

By  Memory  alone. 

The  time  that  is  to  co?ne  is  tiot, 

Hozu  can  it  then  be  mine  ? 
The  present  moment's  all  my  lot; 
And  that,  as  fafl  as  it  is  got, 
.  Phyllis,  is  otily  thine. 

Then  talk  not  of  incotifiancy. 

False  hearts,  and  broken  ojoivs ; 
If  I,  by  miracle,  can  be 
This  livelong  minute  true  to  thee, 
'Tis  all  that  Hea'ven  allo^vs. 

John   Wjlmot,   F.arl  of  Rochcjhr. 
14S 


SONG. 

[1680?] 

Fr  om  all  uneasy  paffions  free. 
Revenge,  ambition,  jealousy. 
Contented  I  had  been  too  blejl. 
If  Lo-Tje  and  you  had  let  me  rejl. 
Yet  that  dull  life  I  notv  despise; 

Safe  from  your  eyes 
I  feared  no  griefs,  but  then  I  found  710  joys. 

Amid/i  a  thousand  kind  defires. 
Which  beauty  mo-ues  and  lo've  inspires. 
Such  pangs  I  feel  of  tender  fear. 
No  heart  so  soft  as  mine  can  bear. 
Yet  ril  dejy  the  ivorjl  of  harms ; 

Such  are  your  charms, 
"Tis  ivorth  a  lij'e  to  die  'within  your  arms. 

John  Sheffield,   Duke  of  Buikingham. 


SONG. 

[i6g6.]  • 

Cf.lij  is  cruel;    Sylz'ia,  thou, 

I  mujl  confess,  art  kind; 
But  in  her  cruelty,  I  'voiv, 

I  more  repose  can  find. 
For  O,  thy  fancy  at  all  games  does  fly. 
Fond  of  address,  and  'willing  to  comply. 


Thus  he  that  hues  mujl  he  undone. 

Each  ivay  on  rocks  ive  fall  ; 
Either  you  n.vill  be  kind  to  none. 

Or,  irorse,  be  kind  to  all. 
Vain  are  our  hopes,  and  endless  is  our  care: 
We  muft  he  jealous,  or  n.ue  nuift  despair. 

Robert  Gould. 


AN    IN  C  AN  r  AT  ION. 
[1696.] 
I. 
Choose  the  darke/l  part  0"  tK  grove. 
Such  as  ghofis  at  noonday  loue. 
Dig  a  trench,  and  dig  it  nigh 
Where  the  bodies  of  Laius  lie  j 
Altars  raised  of  turf,  or  flone. 
Will  the  infer7ial  ponvers  ha-ue  none. 
Ansiver  me,  if  this  he  done  F 
''Tis  done. 


Is  the  sacrifice  made  fit  ? 
Draiv  her  hackixrard  to  the  pit : 
Dra-iv  the  barren  heifer  back: 
Barren  let  her  be,  and  black. 
Cut  the  curled  hair  that  groivs 
Full  betnvixt  her  horns  and  bro^ws  t 
And  turn  your  faces  from  the  sun. 
Ansnver  me,  if  this  be  done  F 
^Tis  done. 


Pour  in  blood,  and  blood-like  nvine, 
To  Mother  Earth  and  Proserpine: 
Mingle  milk  into  the  ftream ; 
Feajl  the  ghojh  that  love  the  fleam  : 
Snatch  a  brand  from  funeral  pile : 
Toss  it  in,  to  make  them  boil; 
And  turn  jour  faces  from  the  sun. 
Anstver  me,  if  this  be  done  ? 
^Tis  done. 

John   Dryden. 


ODE    ON    SOLITUDE. 

[1701.1 

Happy  the  fnan  ivhose  'zvijh  and  care 

A  fe-iv  paternal  acres  bound  ; 

Content  to  breathe  his  nati-~oe  air 

In  his  otv«  ground. 

Whose  herds  ivith  milk,  ivhose  fields  ivilh  bread. 

Whose  flocks  supply  him  ivith  attire : 
Whose  trees  in  summer  yield  him  fliade. 
In  --ivinter  flre. 

Bleffed  ivho  can  unconcernedly  find 

Hours,  days,  and  years,  flidc  soft  aivay. 
In  health  of  body,  peace  of  mind, 
^iet  by  day ; 


SouiiJ  fteep  by  night  ,■  fludy  and  ease 
Together  mixed ;    siveet  recreation : 
And  innocence,  ivhich  mojl  does  please, 
H'ith  meditation. 

Thus  let  me  live,  unseen,  unkno~Mn, 

Thus  unlamented  let  me  die: 

Steal  from  the  moorld,  and  not  a  Jlone 

Mark  avhere  I  lie. 

Alexander    Pope. 

-♦■ 
SONG. 

If  nvine  and  mujic  have  the  poxver 
To  ease  the  fickness  of  the  soul. 
Let  Phcebus  every  firing  explore. 
And  Bacchus  fill  the  sprightly  bonul. 
Let  them  their  friendly  aid  employ. 
To  make  my  Chloe's  absence  light  ,• 
And  seek  for  pleasure,  to  defiroy 
The  sorroujs  of  this  livelong  night. 

But  fie  to-morrotv  -tvHI  return  j 
Venus,  be  thou  to-morro-iv  great ; 
Thy  myrtles  firoiv,  thy  odours  burn. 
And  meet  thy  favourite  nymph  in  fiate. 
Kind  goddess,  to  no  other  povcers 
Let  y.s  to-morrovj  s  bleffmgs  oivn  ; 
Thy  darling  loves  (hall  guide  the  hours. 
And  all  the  day  be  thine  alone. 

Mathew   Prior. 


DIRGE    IN    CTMBELINE. 

[■747-] 
To  fair  FideWs  grajfy  tomb 

Soft  maids  and  ijillage  hinds  Jhail  bring 
Each  opening  s-iveet  of  earlieft  bloom, 

And  rifle  all  the  breathing  Spring. 

No  •ivailing  ghoji  /hall  dare  appear, 

To  'uex  'with  Jhrieks  this  halloxved  gro--ue  j 

But  /bepherd  lads  affemble  here, 

And  melting  -virgins  oivn  their  lo-ue. 

No  -Mithered  -Tvitch  /hall  liere  be  seen ; 

No  goblins  lead  tlieir  7iightly  cre-iv : 
The  female  fays  Jhall  haunt  the  green". 

And  dress  thy  grave  nuith  pearly  devj. 

The  redhrea/i  oft,  at  evening  hours, 

Sliall  kindly  lend  his  little  aid, 
With  hoary  moss,  and  gathered  flo^vers. 

To  deck  the  ground  iv/tere  thou  art  laid. 

When  honxiling  nmnds,  and  beating  rain. 

In  tempejls  /hake  the  silvan  cell ; 
Or,  midjl  the  chase,  on  every  plain. 

The  tender  thought  on  thee  Jhall  divell  ; 

Each  lonely  scene  jhall  tliee  re/lore ; 

For  thee  the  tear  he  duly  /hcd;      « 
Beloved  till  life  can  chartn  no  more, 

And  mourned  till  Pity's  self  be  dead! 

Wii.r.iAM  Cdli.ins 


A    B J  ecu  AN A  LI AN 

[1769?] 

What  is  tv^r  and  all  its  joys  ? 

Useless  mischief,  empty  noise. 

What  are  arms  and  trophies  ivon  F 

Spangles  glittering  ifi  the  sun. 

Rosy  Bacchus,  gi've  me  ivine. 

Happiness  is  only  thine.'  , 

IVhat  is  lo've  nuithout  the  bo-Tvl? 
'  T/V  a  languor  of  the  soul : 
Cronjoned  ivith  i-xy,   Venus  charms. 
Ivy  courts  me  to  her  arms. 
Bacchus,  gi-TJe  me  lo've  and  ivine. 
Happiness  is  only  thine.' 

Thomas  Chatterton. 


A    RED,    RED    ROSE. 

[1 794-] 

O  Mr  Iwve^s  like  a  red,  red  rose, 
That^s  neivly  sprung  in  June; 

O  my  Iwve's  like  the  melodic, 
That^s  si-veetly  played  in  tune. 

Ai  fair  art  thou,  my  bonnie  lass. 

So  deep  in  lu-oe  am  /; 
And  I  ivill  Iwve  thee  Jlill,  my  dear. 

Till  «'  the  seas  gang  dry. 


'Till  a    the  seas  gang  dry,  my  dear. 

And  the  rocks  melt  ivi''  the  sun, 
I  ^will  Iwve  thee  Jlill,  my  dear. 

While  the  sands  o"  life  Jhall  run. 

And  fare  thee  vjeel,  fny  onU  lu'-ce, 

And  fare  thee  ^veel  aivhile ; 
And  I  ivill  come  again,  my  lu-ue. 

Though  it  avere  ten  thousand  mile! 

Robert  Burns. 


SONG. 

[I797-] 
Hear,  svjeet  spirit,  hear  the  spell, 
Lefl  a  blacker  chartn  compel! 
So  Jhall  the  midnight  breezes  s^vell 
JVith  thy  deep  long-lingering  knell. 

And  at  euening  e-uermore. 

In  a  chapel  on  the  fhore, 

Sludl  the  chanter,  sad  and  saintly, 

Yello-iv  tapers  burning  faintly, 

Doleful  majfes  chant  for  thee. 

Miserere  Domine ! 

Hark !   the  cadence  dies  anvay 

On  the  quiet  moonlight  sea : 
The  hoatmeti  reft  their  oars  and  say, 

Miserere  Domine! 

Samuel  Taylor  Colkridce. 


CHORAL    SONG. 

[I8i7.] 

Up,  up  !  ye  dames,  ye  laffes  gay  ! 

To  the  meadonxjs  trip  aivay. 

"  Tis  you  mufl  tend  the  flocks  this  morn. 

And  scare  the  small  birds  from  the  corn. 

Not  a  soul  at  home  may  flay : 

For  the  jhepherds  ?nujl  go 

With  lance  and  botv 
To  hunt  the  ivolf  in  the  ivoods  to-day. 

Leaue  the  hearth  and  leave  the  house 
To  the  cricket  and  the  mouse: 
Find  grannam  out  a  sunny  seat. 
With  babe  and  lambkiri  at  her  feet. 
Not  a  soul  at  home  may  flay : 

For  the  Jhepherds  mufl  go 

With  lance  and  bo-iv 
To  hunt  the  ivolf  in  the  nvoods  to-day. 

Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge. 


SONG. 

[1806?] 

There's  not  a  look,  a  nxjord  of  thine. 
My  soul  hath  e'er  forgot ; 
•   Thou  ne'er  hafl  bid  a  ringlet  flnne. 
Nor  gi-uen  thy  locks  one  graceful  txvine. 
Which  I  remember  not. 
15/. 


There  tte'ver  yet  a  murmur  fell 
From  that  beguiling  tongue, 
JVhich  did  not,  -xvitli  a  lingering  s-cvell. 
Upon  my  c)iar?ned  senses  dn.vell. 
Like  songs  from   Eden  sung. 

Ah,  tliat  I  could,  at  once,  forget 

All,  all  that  haunts  tne  so ; 
And  yet,  thou  switching  girl,  and  yet. 
To  die  nvere  snveeter  than  to  let 
Thy  lo-ced  remembrance  go. 

No  ;    if  this  flighted  heart  fnujl  see 

Its  faithful  pulse  decay, 
O  let  it  die,  rememberi7ig  thee. 
And,  like  the  burnt  aroma,  be 

Consumed  in  snxeets  an.vay ! 


Thomas  Moore. 


O  NiGHriNGALE!   thou  surely  art 

A  creature  of  a  ^"^ fiery  heart ;" 

These  notes  of  thine,  they  pierce  and  pierce : 

Tumultuous  harmony  and  fierce  I 

Thou  fengjl  as  if  the  God  of  tvine 

Had  helped  thee  to  a   Valentine; 

A  song  in  mockery  and  despite 

Of  Jhades,  and  de^ws,  and  filent  night; 

And  fieady  bliss,  and  all  the  lo-ues 

No-TU  fieeping  in  these  peaceful  groves. 


/  heard  a  Stock-do-ve  fing  or  say 
His  fiomely  tale,  this  a;ery  day  j 
His  'voice  nvas  buried  among  trees. 
Vet  to  be  come  at  by  the  breeze: 
He  did  not  cease ;    but  cooed,  and  cooed  ; 
And  some-ivhat  penjiuely  he  ivooed : 
He  sang  of  lo-i'e,  n.vith  quiet  blending, 
Slo-iv  to  begin,  and  ne-uer  ending; 
Of  serious  faith,  and  inivard  glee ; 
That  -tvas  the  song, — the  song  for  me ! 

*•■  William   Wordsworth. 


ro    THE    LADY  ANNE    HAMILTON. 

[iSii.] 

Too  late  I  jlayed — forgi-ce  the  crime. 

Unheeded  fieiu  the  hours ; 
Hoiv  noiseless  falls  the  foot  of  Time, 

That  only  treads  on  flotvers ! 

What  eye  tvith  clear  account  remarks 

The  ebbing  of  his  glass. 
When  all  its  sands  are  diamond-sparks. 

That  dazzle  as  they  pass? 

Ah,  ivho  to  sober  measurement 

Time''s  happy  s-Tviftness  brings. 

When  birds  of  Paradise  ha-nje  lent 
Their  plumage  for  his  nvings  ? 

Hon.   William  Robert  Spenckr. 


SONG 

[I8u.] 

y'ouNG  men  nvill  lo've  thee  more  fair  and  tnore  fa(}; 

Heard  ye  so  merry  the  little  bird  Jing? 
Old  7nens  lo-ue  the  longejl  nuill  lajl, 

And  the  tliroftle-cocWs  head  is  under  his  ivi>ig. 

The  yoimg  maiis  avrath  is  like  light  Jiraiv  on  fire  j 
Heard  ye  so  ?nerry  tlie  little  bird  fing  ? 

But  like  red-hot  Jleel  is  the  old  ?na?rs  ire, 

And  the  throjlle-cock's  head  is  under  his  ivitig. 

The  young  man  ivill  bra-ivl  at  the  e-uening  board; 

Heard  ye  so  merry  the  little  bird  fing  ? 
But  the  old  man  nvill  dravu  at  the  danx.ming  the  s-zvord. 

And  the  throftle-cock''s  head  is  under  his  nuing. 

Sir  Walter  Scott. 


[■s.;.] 

WjsTF.D,  tveary,  ^wherefore  ftay, 
Wreflling  thus  nvith  earth  and  clay? 
From  the  body  pass  avuay ; 

Hark !   the  mass  is  singing. 

From  thee  doff  thy  ?nortal  n.veed, 
Mary  Mother  be  thy  speed. 
Saints  to  help  thee  at  thy  need; 
Hark  !    the  knell  is  ringing. 


Fear  not  sno^v-drift  dri'ving  fajl. 
Sleet,  or  hail,  or  le--vifi  bio  J}; 
Soon  the  Jhroud  /hall  lap  thee  faji. 
And  the  Jleep  be  on  thee  caft 

That  Jhall  ne''er  knoiv  i.caki>ig. 

Hajle  thee,  hafte  thee,  to  be  gone. 
Earth  flits  fajl,  etnd  time  draivs  on  j 
Gasp  thy  gasp,  and  groan  thy  groan. 
Day  is  near  the  breaking. 

Sir  V/ai.tfr  Scott. 


SHE    WALKS    IN    B  E  A  U  T  T. 
[1814.] 
I. 
Sue  ivalks  in  beauty,  like  the  night 

Of  cloudless  climes  and  ftarry  Jkies  ; 
And  all  that  V  bejl  of  dark  and  bright 

Meet  in  her  aspeSl  and  her  eyes: 
Thus  mellouued  to  that  tender  light 
IVhich  hea-ven  to  gaudy  day  denies. 


One  /hade  the  more,  one  ray  the  less. 
Had  half  impaired  the  nameless  grace. 

Which  ivaves  in  e-uery  ra'ven  tress 
Or  softly  lightens  o'er  her  face ; 

When  thoughts  serenely  snveet  express 

Hotv  pure,  hotv  dear  their  d-Melling-place ! 


And  on  that  clieek,  and  o'er  that  hroiv, 

So  soft,  so  calm,  jet  eloquent, 
The  smiles  that  ivin,  the  tints  thai  glo-iv. 

But  tell  of  days  in  goodness  spent, 

A  mind  at  peace  nvith  all  belo-iv, 

A  heart  --zuhose  lo-ve  is  innocent ! 

\  Lord   Bykon. 


SONG. 

iiSiy.] 

Think  not  of  it,  s-iveet  one,  so, 

Gi-ue  it  not  a  tear ; 
Sigh  thou  mayft,  and  bid  it  go 

Any — anytv/iere. 

Do  not  look  so  sad,  s-vueet  one. 

Sad  and  fadingly ; 
Shed  one  drop   (and  only  one], 

O,  't-iuas  born  to  die ! 

Still  so  pale  F    then,  deareft,  •~veep, 
IVeep, — /'//  count  the  tears  ; 

For  each   I  --vill  invent  a  bliss 
For  thee  in  after  years. 

Brighter  has  it  left  thine  eyes 

Than  a  sunny  rill; 
And  thy  n.vhispering  melodies 

Are  more  tender  ftill. 


Tet,  as  all  things  mount  a-wfitle 

At  fleeting  blijfes. 

Let  us  too  ;    but  be  our  dirge 

A  Jirge  of  kijfes. 

John   Keats. 


A    FRAGMENT. 

[1818.] 

Hence  Burgundy,  Claret,  and  Port, 

Aivay  ivith  old  Hock  and  Madeira ; 
Too  earthly  are  ye  for  my  sport ; 

Here's  a  beverage  brighter  and  clearer. 
Injlead  of  a  pitiful  rummer. 
My  ivine  o-verbrims  a  ivhole  Summer  .- 

My  bo-wl  is  the  Jky, 

And  I  drink  at  my  eye. 

Till  I  feel  in  the  brain 

A  Delphian  pain, 
Tfien  follonxi,  my  Caius,  then  follotv  ; 

On  the  green  of  the  hill 

We  nvill  drink  our  fill 

Of  golden  sunjlnne 

Till  our  brains  intertzvine 
IVith  the  glory  and  grace  of  Apollo ! 

John    Keats. 


SONG 

[.3.9.] 
False  friend,  tvilt  thou  smile,  or  tveep. 
When  my  life  is  laid  ajleep  ? 
Little  cares  for  a  smile  or  a  tear 
The  clay-cold  corpse  upon  the  bier; 

Fareivell !    Heigh  ho! 

What  is  this  ^whispers  loivF 
There  is  a  snake  in  thy  smile,  my  dear. 
And  bitter  poison  ivithin  thy  tear. 

S-Tveet  Sleep  !    nvere  death  like  to  thee. 
Or  if  thou  couldft  mortal  be, 
I  nvould  close  these  eyes  of  pain; 
When  to  ^vake?     Ne-ver  again. 

O  World!  farewell! 

Liflen  to  the  pajjing-bell ! 
It  says,  thou  and  I  mufl  part. 
With  a  light  and  a  hea-iy  heart. 

Percy   Bysshe  Shf.lley. 


LOVE'S    PHILOSOPHY. 

[1810.] 

I. 

The  fountains  ?ningle  avith  the  ri-Tjer. 

And  the  ri--vers  ivith  the  ocean; 
The  luinds  of  hea-ven  mix  fore-uer 
With  a  s-iveet  emotion : 
.6? 


Nof/iing  in  the  ivorld  is  fmgle ; 

All  things  by  a  la^tv  divine 
In  one  another  s  being  mingle — 

IVhy  not  I  with  thine  F 


See  the  mountains  kiss  high  Iiea-uen, 

And  the  ivaves  clasp  one  another; 
No  filler  fioiver  nvould  be  forgi'ven. 

If  it  disdained  its  brother  : 
And  the  sunlight  clasps  the  earth. 

And  the  moonbeams  kiss  the  sea : 
What  are  all  these  kijfings  ivorth, 

If  thou  kiss  not  me  F 

Percy  Bysshe  Shelley. 


SONG. 

[1821.] 

R^RF.ir,  rarely,  comejl  thou. 

Spirit  of  Delight ! 
IVherefore  haft  thou  left  me  no^iu 

Many  a  day  and  night  F 
Many  a  tveary  night  and  day 
'  Tis  fince  thou  art  fled  aivay. 

Hotv  Jhall  euer  one  like  me 
IV in  thee  back  again  F 

IVith  the  joyous  and  the  free 
Thou  --wilt  scoff  at  pain. 

■  6+ 


spirit  false  !    thou  Itafl  forgot 
All  but  those  luho  7ieed  thee  not. 

As  a  lizard  njoilli  the  jhade 

Of  a  trembling  leaf., 
T/tou  H.vith  sorro^vj  art  dismayed  ^ 

E-ven  the  fighs  of  grief 
Reproach  thee,  that  thou  art  not  near. 
And  reproach  thou  ivilt  not  hear. 

Let  me  set  my  mournful  ditty 

To  a" merry  measure; 
'Thou  ^vilt  ne-uer  come  for  pity. 

Thou  ivilt  come  for  pleasure : 
Pity  tJwn  ivill  cut  aiuay 
Those  cruel  -zvings,  a?id  thou  itilt  flay. 

I  lo<ve  all  that  thou  lo-uef. 

Spirit  of  Delig/it ! 
The  frefh  Earth  in  netv  leagues  drejl. 

And  the  (larry  night ; 
Autumn  e-uening,  and  the  niorii 
IVJien  the  golden  mijls  are  born. 

I  lo'ue  snoav,  and  all  the  forms 

Of  the  radiant  frojl  ,• 
/  lo--ve  nva-Tjes,  and  ivinds,  and  forms, 

E-uery  tiling  almojl 
IVhich  is  Nature''s,  and  may  be 
Untainted  by  man''s  misery. 


/  lo've  tranquil  solitude. 

And  such  society 
As  is  quiet,  ivise,  and  good ; 

Betzveen  thee  and  me 
What  difference  ?   but  thou  do/i  poffess 
The  things  I  seek,  not  lo-ue  them  less. 

I  lo-ve  Lo-ve — though  he  has  ivings. 

And  like  light  ca?i  Jiee  ; 
But,  above  all  other  things. 

Spirit,  I  lo-ve  thee: 
Thou  art  love  and  life !  ,0  come. 
Make  once  more  my  heart  thy  Jiome. 

Percy  Bysshe  Shelley. 


SONG    TO    MAT. 

[iSio?] 

Mjrf    ^leen  of  blqffoms. 
And  fulfilling  fio^voers. 

With  'what  pretty  mufic 

Shall  '-aie  charm  the  hours  F 

Wilt  thou  have  pipe  and  reed 

Blovun  in  the  open  mead? 

Or  to  the  lute  give  heed 
In  the  green  boivers  F 

Thou  hajl  no  need  of  us. 

Or  pipe  or  nvire. 
That  haji  the  golden  bee 

Ripened  nvith  fire : 


And  many  thousand  more 
Songjiers,  that  thee  adore. 
Filling  Earth" s  grajfy  floor 
JVith  neiv  defire. 

Thou  haft  thy  ?nighty  herds, 

Tajne,  and  free  li--vers ; 
Doubt  not,  thy  7nufic  too 

In   the  deep  ri-uers : 
And  the  n.vhole  plumy  flight 
Warbling  the  day  and  night — 
Up  at  the  gates  of  light. 
See,  the  lark  qui-vers ! 

When  <tvith  the  jacinth 
Coy  foujitains  are  trcffed; 

And  for  the  mournful  bird  * 
Green-ivoods  are  drefl'ed. 

That  did  for   Tereus  pine ; 

Then  fljall  our  songs  be  thine. 

To  <TJuhom  our  hearts  incline: 
May,  be  thou  bleffedl 


Lord   Thuki-OW. 


SONG    TO    THE    EVENING    STAR. 

[iSii.] 

I. 

STAR  that  bringefl  liome  the  bee. 

And  sett  fl  the  nueary  labourer  free ! 

If  any  ftar  Jhed  peace,  "tis  thou. 

That  scnd'Jl  it  from  above. 


\(fj 


Appearing  ivJien   Hea-vens  breath  and  hroiv 
Are  JTveet  as  hers  ive  love. 


Come  to  the  luxuriant  Jkies, 
IVhilJl  the  landscape's  odours  rise, 
U'hilj}  far-off  loxving  herds  are  heard. 

And  songs  ^^hen  toil  is  done. 
From  cottages  n.vliose  smoke  unjlirred 

Curls  yello-'v  in  the  sun. 

III. 
Star  of  lo'-ve's  soft  inter--vie-ivs. 
Parted  lonjers  on  thee  muse; 
Their  remembrancer  in   Heauen 

Of  thrilling  'voivs  thou  art. 
Too  delicious  to  he  ri-uen 
By  absence  from  the  hearts 

Thomas  Campbell. 


SONG. 

•i8i;.] 
I. 

The  sifallo-iv  leaues  her  nejl. 
The  soul  my  niueary  breajl; 
But  therefore  let  the  rain 

On  my  gra-T>e 
Fall  pure  ;  for  nuhy  complain  ? 
Since  both  n^vill  come  again 

O'er  the  nva-ue. 


The  n.vind  dead  leaues  and  sno-iv 

Doth  hurry  to  and  fro  ; 

A7id,  once,  a  day  Jhall  break 

O^er  tJie  ^cva-ve. 

When  a  Jiorj?i  of  ghojh  Jhall  Jlmhe 

The  dead,  until  they  --wake' 

In  the  gra-ue. 

Thomas   Lovell   Beddoes. 


DIRGE. 

[1S25.] 
If  thou  ^lviU  ease  thy  heart 
Of  lo-ue  and  all  its  s?nart, 
Then  Jleep,  dear,  Jleep  ; 
And  7iot  a  sorro-xo 
Hang  any  tear  on  your  eyelajhes ; 

Lie  Jiill  aiid  deep. 
Sad  soul,  until  the  sea-njoa--ve  Tvajhes 
The  rim  0'  the  sun  to-morroxv, 
In  eaflern  Jhy. 

But  ivilt  thou  cure  thy  heart 
Of  love  and  all  its  smart  ? 
Then  die,  dear,  die; 
^Tis  deeper,  s-iveeter. 
Than  on  a  rose-bank  to  lie  dreaming 

With  folded  eye ; 
And  then  alone,  amid  the  beaming 

Of  lo-ue'' s  Jiars,  thou  'It  meet  her 
In  eajlern  jky. 

Thomas  Lovell   Beddoi.s. 


169 


A    SONG. 
[1815.] 
A  cyPRESS-BOVGHy  and  a  rose-ivreath  siveet, 
A  ivedJing-robcy  and  a  ivinding-fieet, 
A  bridal-bed  and  a  bier. 
Thine  be  the  kijfes,  ?naid. 

And  smiling  Lovers  alarms  j 
And  thou,  pale  youth,  be  laid 
In  the  grave's  cold  arms. 
Each  in  his  ozt-n  charms. 

Death  and  Hymen  both  are  here  j 
So  up  nvith  scythe  and  torch, 
And  to  the  old  church  porch, 
IVhile  all  the  bells  ring  clear: 
And  rosy,  rosy  the  bed  Jljall  bloom. 
And  earthy,  earthy  heap  up  the  tomb. 

Novj  tremble  dimples  on  your  cheek, 
Szueet  be  your  lips  to  tafte  and  speak. 
For  he  nxilio  kijfcs  is  near: 
By  Iter  the  bride-god  fair. 

In  youthful  poixer  and  force ; 
By  him  the  grizard  bare. 
Pale  knight  on  a  pale  horse, 
To  1V00  him  to  a  corpse. 

Death  and  Hymen  both  are  here; 
So  up  ivith  scythe  and  torch. 
And  to  the  old  church  porch, 
IVhile  all  the  bells  ring  clear: 
And  rosy,  rosy  the  bed  fiall  bloom. 
And  earthy,  earthy  heap  up  the  tomb. 

TilO.MAS    LOVELL    BeDDOES. 


BALLAD. 

[iS26?l 

Spring  it  is  cheery. 

Winter  is  iireary. 

Green  leaues  hatig,  but  the  bro-ivn  mufl  fly ; 

When  he  V  forsaken. 

Withered  and  Jhaken, 

What  can  an  oLl  jnan  do  but  die  F 

Love  luill  not  clip  him. 

Maids  ^vill  not  lip  him. 

Maud  and  Marian  pass  him  by; 

Youth  it  is  sunny. 

Age  has  no  honey : 

What  can  an  old  man  do  but  die? 

June  it  ivas  jolly. 

O  for  its  folly  ! 

A  dancing  leg  and  a  laughing  eye; 

Youth  tnay  be  filly. 

Wisdom  is  chilly  •■ 

What  can  an  old  man  do  but  die? 

Friends  they  are  scanty. 

1. 

Beggars  are  plenty. 

If  he  has  follorvers,  I  knonjj  <ivhy  ; 

Gold's  in  his  clutches, 

[Buying  Jiim  crutches'.) 

What  can  an  old  man  do  but  die? 

Thomas   Hood. 

171 

BALLAD. 

[1826?  J 

It  nx>as  not  in  the  •zvinter 
Our  lo-ving  lot  ivas  cafl : 
It  ivas  the  time  of  roses — 
JVe  plucked  them  as  nx)e  pajfed '. 

That  churiijh  season  Jiever  froxvned 
On  early  lo-uers  yet : 
O,  no — the  ivorld  luas  ?2e-zuly  cro-zvned 
With  jionjcers  avhen  ^tve  tnet. 

""Ttvas  ti-vilight,  and  I  bade  you  go. 

But  Jim  you  held  me  fajl  j 

//  nvas  the  time  of  roses — 

IVe  plucked  them  as  atr  pajfed ! 


Thomas   Hood. 


NEPHON'S    SONG. 

[1827.] 

L/iDr  and  gentlemen  fays,  come  buy! 
No  peddler  has  such  a  rich  packet  as  I. 

IVIio  nvatits  a  goivn 

Of  purple  fold. 
Embroidered  dovjn 

The  seams  nvith  gold? 

See  here! — a   Tulip  richly  laced 
To  please  a  royal  fairy'' s  tajle ! 


Who  njoants  a  cap 

Of  crimson  grand  ? 
By  great  good  liap 
V've  07ie  on  hand: 

Look,  sir ! — a   Cock's-comb,  Jlo-zvering  red, 
^Tis  juji  tJie  thing,  sir,  for  your  head! 

Who  'zvants  a  frock 

Of  veftal  hue  ? 
Or  snouuy  sfnock  F 
Fair  ?naid,  do  you  F 

O  7ne  I — a   Lady  smock  so  n-vhite ! 
7'our  bosom'' s  self  is  7iot  more  bright ! 

Who  njoants  to  sport 

A  Jlender  limb  ? 
I^-ue  e-uery  sort 
Of  hose  for  him  -. 

Both  scarlet,  JJriped,  and  yello-iv  ones  ; 
The   Woodbine  7nakes  such  pantaloons ! 

Who  nvants — •(  hufj !   hujh  ! ) 

A  box  of  paint  F 
''T'will  gi-ue  a  blujh, 
Tet  lea-ue  7io  tai/it  -. 

This   Rose  -ivitli  7iatural  rouge  is  filled, 
Fro77i  its  O'Tvn  de-zvy  lea^'es  diftilled. 

Then  lady  and  ge7itle77ien  fays,  co7ne  buy ! 
Tou  never  nvill  meet  such  a  merchant  as  L 

George  Daklky. 


A    SERENADE. 

I18Z7.] 

AiCJKK  t/icc,  7)iy   l.ady-lo-vel 

Wake  t/tce,  and  rise! 
The  sun  through  the  boiver  peeps 

Into  thine  eyes! 

II. 
Behold  honju  the  early  lark 

Springs  from  the  corn ! 
Hark,  hark  houu  the  flonjoer-bird 

Winds  her  n,vee  horn ! 

III. 

The  savalloTJu's  glad  jhriek  is  heard 

All  through  the  air! 
The  ftock-dove  is  murmuring 

Loud  as  fie  dare ! 

IV. 

Apollo^s  ivinged  bugleman 

Cannot  contain, 
But  peals  his  loud  trumpet-call 

Once  and  again ! 

V. 

Then  avake  thee,   my   Lady-love ! 

Bird  of  my  boiver ! 

The  s'weeteji  and  Jleepiefl 

Bird  at  this  hour! 

George   Darley. 


[i8;o?] 


Sif^EET  in  her  green  dell  the  fion.ver  of  beauty  Jlumbers,- 
Lulled  by  the  faint  breezes  Jighing  through  her  hair; 

Sleeps  /he,  and  hears  not  the  inelaticholy  7iumbers 
Breathed  to  7ny  sad  lute  amid  the  lonely  air! 


Douun  from  the  high  cliffs  the  ri-vulet  is  teeming. 

To  'vjind  round  the  ivilloiv-banks  that  lure  him  from  aboue  j 

O  that,  in  tears  from  7)iy  rocky  prison  flreaming, 
I,  too,  could  glide  to  the  bo-uuer  of  my  lo-ue ! 


Ah,  auhefi  the  ^jooodbines  ivith  Jleepy  arms  ha've  luound  her. 
Opes  fie  her  eyelids  at  the  dream  of  my  lay, 

Liftening,  like  the  do-ue,  ivhile  the  fountains  echo  round  her. 
To  her  loft  mate's  call  in  the  forefts  far  a-ujay .' 


Come,  then,  my  bird !  for  the  peace  thou  eojcr  bcarcft. 

Still  Hea-vens  7ne(fe7iger  of  co77ifort  to  7ne ; 
Come  !   this  fond  boso7n,  wy  faithfulleft,  t7iy  faireft. 

Bleeds  njuith  its  death-uuound — but  deeper  yet  for  thee ! 

George  Daulky. 
«7S 


176 


7HE    CAVALIER'S    SONG. 
[1817.] 
A  STEED!   a  fteed  of  maulilejfe  spcedel 

A  s'T.vord  of  metal  keene ! 
Al  else  to  noble  heartes  is  droffe, 

Al  else  on  earth  is  meane. 
The  neighynge  of  the  n.var-horse  pronjode^ 

The  ronx:leinge  of  the  drum. 
The  clangour  of  the  trumpet  lonjode. 

Be  soundes  from  hea-ven  that  come. 
And,   O  !   the  thundering  prcjfe  of  knightes, 
Whenas  their  nxiar-cryes  s^welle. 
May  tole  from  heaven  an  angel  bright. 
And  ro-zvse  a  fiend  from  hell. 

Then  mount e !   then  mounte,  braise   Gallants  all. 

And  don  your  helmes  amaine  j 
Leathers  couriers.   Fame  and  Honour,  call 

Us  to  the  field  againe. 
No  /hre-ivijh  tears  Jhal  fill  our  eye. 

When  the  STvord-hilt's  in  our  hand; 
Heart-nvhole  nve  'II  parte,  and  no  ixhit  fighe 

For  the  fayrefi  of  the  land. 
Let  piping  snjoaine,  and  cra--uen  njoight. 

Thus  njL'eepe  and  puling  crye ; 
Our  bufineffe  is  like  men  to  fighte. 

And,  like  to  Heroes,  die'. 

William  Motherwell. 


SONG. 

[■855-J 

She   is  7iot  fair  to  out^varJ  -vie-Tc, 

As  many  maidens  be  i 
Her  lo-veliness  I  never  kneiv 

Until  jhe  smiled  on  me : 
O,  then  I  saav  her  eye  ^-ivas  bright, 
A  -Tvell  of  lo-ve,  a  spring  of  light. 

But  nozv  her  looks  are  coy  and  cold, 

To  mine  they  ne'er  reply  ; 
And  yet  I  cease  not  to  behold 

The  love-light  in  her  eye: 
Her  -very  fronvns  are  better  far 
Than  smiles  of  other  7naidens  are ! 

Hartley   Coleridge. 


SONG. 
ii8j4-] 
Dotf^N  lay  in  a  nook  my  lady's  brach. 

And  said,  My  feet  are  sore, 
I  cannot  follovu  nvith  tJie  pack 
A-hunting  of  the  hoar. 

And  though  the  horn  sounds  never  so  clear, 
IFith  the  hounds  in  loud  uproar. 

Yet  I  muj}  flop  and  lie  do^vn  here. 
Because  my  feet  are  sore. 


The  huntsman  ivhen  he  heard  the  same, 
H'hat  anszL-er  did  he  gize  'C 

The  dog  that's  lame  is  much  to  blame. 
He  is  not  fit  to  live. 


Henry  Tayl<jr. 


THE    BLACKBIRD. 

['8J5.; 

MORNING. 

Gulden  bill!    Golden  bill! 

Lo,  the  peep  of  day ; 
All  the  air  is  cool  and  ftill. 
From  the  elm-tree  on  the  hill 

Chant  anvay : 
ffhile  the  moon  drops  dozvn  the  nvejl. 
Like  thy  mate  upon  her  nefl. 
And  the  flars  before  the  sun. 
Melt  like  snoiv-Jiakes,  one  by  one: 
Let  thy  loud  and  ivelcome  lay 

Pour  along 
Feiv  notes  but  Jlrong. 

E  r  F.  N  I  N  G. 

Jet-bright  nx'ing  !    Jet-bright  iving  ! 

Flit  across  the  sunset  glade; 
Lying  there  in  nvait  to  fing, 
Liften  ivith  thy  head  anjury. 
Keeping  time  nvith  tzvinkling  eye, 

IVhile  from  all  the  ivoodland  foade 


BlrJs  of'  cuery  plume  and  7inte 

Strain  the  throat. 

Till  both  hill  and  n.'alley  ring. 

And  the  itjarbled  tninjlrelsy. 

Ebbing,  fio'-Lving  like  the  sea. 

Claims  brief  interludes  from  thee : 

Then,  ivith  fwiple  sivell  and  fall. 

Breaking  beautiful  through  all. 

Let  thy  Pan-like  pipe  repeat 

Ferv  notes  but  szveef. 

James   Monigomery. 


A    PHANTASY. 

[1S56.] 

Feed  her  nvith  the  lea-ves  of  Love, 
{Lo've,  the  rose,  that  blojfoms  here!) 
Mufic,  gently  round  her  mo-x'e ! 
Bind  her  to  the  cypress  near! 
Weaue  her  round  and  round. 
With  Jkeins  of  fdken  sound ! 
'  Tis  a  little  Jlricken  deer. 
Who  doth  from  the  hunter  fly, 
And  comes  here  to  droop, ^to  die. 
Ignorant  of  her  ivound ! 

Soothe  her  n.vith  sad  Jlories, 

O  poet,  till  Jhe  Jleep  ! 

Dreams,  come  forth  %v\th  all  your  glories ! 

Night,  breathe  soft  and  deep! 


Mtiftc,  rounJ  her  creep ! 

If  /he  fteal  a-ivay  to  -Tveep, 

Seek  her  out, — and,  nvhen  you  find  her. 

Gentle,  genllejl  Mu/ic,  ^vind  her 

Round  and  round. 

Round  and  round, 

Kith  your  bands  of  softefl  sound : 

Such  as  lue,  at  nightfall,  hear 

In  the  ivizard  forejl  near, 

When  the  charmed  Maiden  ftngs 

At  the  ivizard  springs ! 

Bryan   Waller    Procter. 


THE    FAREU'ELL    OF    THE    SOLDIER. 

[1836.] 

I  LOVE  thee,  I  love  thee. 

Far  better  than  ivine ; 
But  the  curse  is  aho-ue  me, — 

ThouUt  ne-uer  be  mine! 

As  the  blade  swears  the  scabbard. 

The  billo-iv  the  Jhore, 
So  sorro-Tu  doth  fret  me 

For  e-vermore. 


Fair  beauty,  I  leave  thee, 
To  conquer  my  heart: 

ril  see  thee,  Vll  bless  thee. 
And  then — depart. 


Let  me  take,  ere  I  'vanijh. 

One  look  of  thine  eyes, — 
One  smile  for  remembra7ice. 

For  life  soon  flies ! 

And  no-TV  for  tJie  fortune 

'Ttiat  liangeth  aho-ve ; 
To  bury,  in  battle. 

My  dream  of  lo've  '. 

Bryan  Waller   Procter. 


A    BRIDAL     DIRGE. 

[iSj6.] 

IVeave  no  more  the  7narriage  chain ! 

All  unmated  is  the  lo-uer ; 
Death  has  to' en  the  place  of  Pain ; 
Lo--ue  doth  call  on   Loue  in  njain : 

Life' and  years  of  hope  are  o-uer! 

No  more  'want  of  marriage  bell! 

No  more  need  of  bridal  favour ! 
Where  is  Jhe  to  nx'car  them  nvell  F 
Tou,  befide  the  lo-ver,  tell ! 

Gone — ^vith  all  the  lo-ue  he  ga-ue  her'. 

Paler  than  the  Jlone  fie  lies. 

Colder  than  the  'winters  morning! 

Wherefore  did  Jhe  thus  despise 

(She  luith  pity  in  her  eyes) 

Mother's  care,  and  louers  ^warning? 


I'outh  and  beauty,— Jl^all  they  not 

Laj]  beyond  a  brief  to-morroixi  ? 

No  :    a  prayer,  and  then  forgot ! 

This  the  truefl  lovers  lot; 

This  the  sum  of  human  sorro-iv ! 

Bryan  Walier   Proctek. 

-♦■ 

J    BACCHANALIAN    SONG. 

1.8J6.J 

I. 

Sing  ! — Who  fings 

To  her  nvho  •zveareth  a  hundred  rings? 

Ah,  nuho  is  this  lady  fine? 

The  Vine,  boys,  the  Vine! 

The  ?nother  of  mighty  Wine. 

• 

A  roamer  is  Jhc 

O'er  i.vall  and  tree. 

And  sotnetimes  'Z'ery  good  company. 

II. 
Drink! — Who  drinks 

To  her  luho  blujheth  and  ne-ver  thinks? 

Ah,  n.vho  is  this  ?naid  of  thine? 

The  Grape,  boys,  the  Grape! 

O,  neuer  let  her  escape 

Until  Jhe  be  turned  to   Wine! 

For  better  is  fie 

Than  Vine  can  be, 

And  'very,  'vety  good  company! 

182 

Dream  ! — Who  dreams 

Of  the  God  that  go-ijerns  a  thousand  jlreams  ? 
All,  nvho  is  this  Spirit  fine  F 
^Tis  IVine,  boys,  "tis  IVine ! 
God  Bacchus,  a  friend  of  mine. 
O,  better  is  he 
Than  grape  or  tree, 
And  the  bejl  of  all  good  company  I 

Bryan   Waller   Procter. 


SONG. 
[1S41.] 
I. 
Vou'LL  lo-ve  me  yet  !    and  I  can  tarry 
Tour  lo'ue's  protraSled  grooving: 
June  reared  that  hunch  of  fioixiers  you  carry 
From  seeds  of  April's  solving. 

u. 

I  plant  a  heartful  tionv — some  seed 

At  leaf}  is  sure  to  firike 

And  yield — -what  you'' II  not  pluck,  indeed. 

Not  lo-ve,  but,  7nny  be,  like'. 

III. 
You^ll  look  at  leaf  on   Loue's  remains, 
A  gra-ve''s  one  ^violet : 
Tour  look  ?   that  pays  a  thousand  pains. 
What  V  death  ? — you  ^11  lo-ve  me  yet ! 

'  RoBtRT     liKOWNING. 

I.SJ 


i84 


SONG. 
(1S41.] 
The  year's  at  the  Spring, 
And  day's  at  the  morn; 
Morning 's  at  se-uen ; 
The  hill-fide' s  de'iu-pearled : 
The  lark's  on  the  aving ; 
The  snail's  on  the  thorny 
God's  in  His  heauen — 
All's  right  -with  the  avor/d ! 

Robert   Browning. 

SONG. 

[1842.] 
The  Moth's  kiss,  firjl ! 
Kiss  me  as  if  you  made  believe   , 
J'ou  nvere  not  sure,  this  eve, 
Hozv  my  face,  your  fio-iver,  had  pursed 
Its  petals  up ;    so,  here  and  there 
You  brufn  it,  till  I  gro-uo  a-vcare 
Who  -ivants  me,  and  ivide  open  burjl. 

The  Bee's  kiss,  fioTV ! 

Kiss  me  as  if  you  entered  gay 

My  heart  at  some  noonday, 

A  bud  that  dares  not  disallo-uo 

The  claim,  so  all  is  rendered  up. 

And  pajji-vely  its  Jhattered  cup 

Over  your  head  to  fieep  I  bo-v. 

Robert  Browning. 


THE    LOST    MISTRESS. 

[1S45.] 

All's  o-uer,  then — does  truth  sound  bitter. 

As  one  at  firjl  belieues  ? 
Hark,  'tis  the  sparronxjs''  good-niglit  t-zvitter 

About  your  cottage  ea-ues  ! 

And  the  leaf-buds  on  the  'vine  are  ivoollj, 

I  noticed  that  to-day ; 
One  day  more  bur/Is  them  open  fully 

—  Toukno-TU  the  red  turns  gray. 

To-morrozu  tve  meet  the  same  then,  dearejl  ? 

May  I  take  your  hand  in  mine  P 
Mere  friends  are  ive, — nvell,  friends  the  7nerejl 

Keep  much  that  Til  refign : 

For  each  glance  of  that  eye  so  bright  and  black. 
Though  I  keep  ivith  heart's  endewvour, — 

Tour  --voice,  nulien  you  luijh  the  snoi.v-drops  back. 
Though  it  Jhtys  in  my  soul  fore-ver ! 

RoBEKT  Browning. 


RONDEAU. 

['844-] 

J  F.N  NT  kijfed  7ne  ^vhen  nve  met, 
"Jumping  from  the  chair  /he  sat  in  j 

Time,  you  thief,  ivhu  love  to  get 
Szveets  into  your  lijl,  put  that  in : 
185  ■ 


Say  Vm  aceaiy,  say  Vm  sndy 

Say  that  health  and  -ivcalth  haue  mijfed  me. 
Say  rm  gro-ivhig  old,  hut  add, 
Jeiitiy  kijfcd  me. 

Leigh   Hunt 
-♦• 

CUPID    S IV A  I.  I.  O  irED. 

r  M  R  .4  P  II  K  A  J  /:     FRO  M     THE     A  N  7  It  0  L  0  C  ?". 

[>S44.] 
T'OTHER  day,  as  I  luas  tivifii»g 
Roses,  for  a  cronxn  to  xiine  i?i. 
What,  of  all  things,  jnidjl  the  heap 
Should  I  light  on,  faft  ajleep. 
But  the  little  desperate  elf. 
The  tiny  traitor,   I.oue  himself  I 
By  the  I'jings  I  pinched  hi?n  up 
Like  a  bee,  and  in  a  cup 
Of  my  nvirie  I  plunged  and  sank  him. 
And  -Mhat  d^ye  think  I  did ?—I  drank  hi}r.. 
Faith,  I  thought  him  dead.     Nat  he! 
There  he  li-~jes  -Tvith  tenfold  glee; 
And  no-iv  this  moment  ivith  his  icings 
I  feci  him  tickling  my  heart-Jlrings. 

Leigh   Kuni. 
-♦--  

SONG. 

[1846.] 
OtJE  year  ago  ?ny  path  ixias  green, 
My  footjlep  light,  my  broiu  serene ; 
Alas  !   and  could  it  hai:e  been  so 
One  year  ago ? 


There  is  a  lo-x'e  that  is  to  laji 
When  the  hot  days  of  youth  are  pajli 
Such  love  did  a  siveet  maid  bejjo-tv 
One  year  ago. 

I  took  a  leaflet  from  her  braid 
And  ga've  it  to  another  maid. 
Loue  !    broken  Jhould  hat'e  been  thy  boxv 
One  year  ago. 

V/alter  Savage  L^knpor. 


♦  SONG. 

[1846.] 

/  LOf'E  to  hear  that  men  are  bound 
By  your  enchanting  links  of  sound : 
I  love  to  hear  that  none  rebel 
Againfl  your  beauty  s  fdent  spell. 
I  knon.u  not  nvhcther  I  may  bear 
To  see  it  all,  as  ivcll  as  hear; 
And  ne-ver  Jhall  I  clearly  knoi.u 
Unless  you  nod  and  tell  7ne  so. 

Walter  Savage  Landor. 


SONG. 

[1846.] 

LiTTLF.   it  inter ejls  me  hoxv 
Some  insolent  usurper  no-tv 

Divides  your  narron.v  chair ;        « 


187 


Little  hccA  I  •-(.•/losc  hand  is  placed 
(No,  fior  fio-iv  far)  around  your  ^Mai/I, 
Or  paddles  in  your  hair. 

A  time,  a  time  there  may  ha-ve  been 

( Ah  !   and  there  ivas )  tvhen  e^very  scene 

Was  brightened  by  your  eyes. 
And  dare  you  ajk  ivhat  you  ha-ve  done  ? 
My  ansiver,  take  it,  is  but  one — 

The  iveak  ha-ue  taught  the  avise. 

Walter  Savage   Landor. 


SONG. 

[1846.] 

Often  ha-ve  I  heard  it  said 
That  her  lips  are  ruby-red. 
Little  heed  I  nvhat  they  say, 
I  ha've  seen  as  red  as  they. 
Ere  /he  smiled  on  other  men. 
Real  rubies  nvere  they  then. 

When  Jhe  kijfed  me  once  in  play. 
Rubies  ivere  less  bright  than  they. 
And  less  bright  ivere  those  nvJiich  fhone 
In  the  palace  of  the  Sun. 
Will  they  he  as  bright  again  F 
Not  if  kijfed  by  other  men. 
k  Walter  Savage   Landor. 


THE    AGE    OF    IFISDOM. 

[1846.] 

I. 

Ho,  pretty  page,  ivit/i  the  dimpled  chin. 

That  ne'uer  has  kno=von  the  barber  s  jhear. 
All  your  nvijh  is  nvoman  to  luifi. 
This  is  the  luay  that  boys  begin, — 
Wait  till  you  come  to  Forty   Tear. 


Curly  gold  locks  co-uer  foolijh  brains, 

Billing  and  cooing  is  all  your  cheery 
Sighing  and  Jinging  of  midnight  flrains. 
Under  BonnybeW s  'windo-Tv-panes, — 
Wait  till  you  come  to  Forty    Tear ! 


Forty  times  o-z-er  let  Michaelmas  pass, 

Grizzling  hair  the  brain  doth  clear- 
Then  you  knoxv  a  boy  is  an  ass, 
Then  you  knotv  the  'zvorth  of  a  lass. 
Once  you  haue  come  to  Forty   1  'ear. 


Pledge  me  round,  I  bid  ye  declare. 

All  good  fellouus  ivhose  beards  are  gray. 
Did  not  the  fairejl  of  the  fair 
Common  groiv  and  ivearisome  ere 
Ever  a  month  luas  pa/i  aixiay  ? 
189 


The  reddell  lips  that  e~cer  ha've  kiJfeJ, 
'The  brighlejl  eyes  that  eijer  have  Jhone, 

May  pray  and  -ivhisper,  and  ive  not  /ijl, 

Or  look  aivay,  and  never  be  miffed^ 
Ere  yet  ever  a  month  is  gone. 

VI. 

Gillian's  dead,   GoD  reft  her  bier \ 
H01.U  I  loved  her  tive?ity  years  syne ! 

Marianas  married,  but  I  fit  here 

Alone  and  merry  at  Forty   Tear, 

Dipping  my  nose  in  the  Gascon  ivific. 

William   Makzpeac.-  Thackerav. 


SONG. 

[1846.] 
O,   THAT  -Tve  t-iuo  nvere  Mayi?ig 
Do-jun  the  ftream  of  the  soft  Spring  breeze ; 
Like  children  ivith  'violets  playing 
In  the  Jhade  of  the  ivhispering  trees. 

O,  that  T-Cf  tzvo  sat  dreamifig 

On  the  sivard  of  some  ft)eep-trimmed  doivn, 

U'atchi7ig  the  ivhite  mift  fleaming 

Over  river  and  mead  and  tonvn. 

O,  that  nxje  tivo  lay  fteeping 

In  our  neft  in  the  churchyard  sod. 

With  our  limbs  at  reft  on  the  quiet  Earth's  breaft. 

And  our  souls  at  home  'with   God  ! 

Charles   Kingsley. 

Ir/5 


SONG. 

7'iiE  ^jjorld  goes  up,  an  J  the  ivorlJ  ^aes  daufi. 

And  the  smijhine  follo^ws  the  rain  : 
And  yefter day's  sneer  and  yejlerday's  froiisn 

Can  neucr  co?ne  over  again, 
S-xveet  -ivife. 

No,  ne-uer  come  o--ver  again. 

For  -luoTnan  is  ^joarrn  though  ma:i  he  aid. 

And  the  night  ^cuill  hallozu  the  day ; 
Till  the  heart  -znhich  At  even  n.vas  iveary  and  old, 
Can  rise  i.i  the  morning  gay, 

S-Tveet  -ivifc. 
To  its  avork  in  the  morning  gay. 

Chat.lks  ICingsi.sv. 


(184s;  J 

Tut  <v'j:ce  is  heard  through  rolling  drun:s. 

That  heat  to  hattle  ^Mliere  he  Jlands  ; 
Thy  face  across  his  fancy  czmcs. 

And  gives  the  hattle  to  his  hands  ; 
A  7noment,  nvhiU  th:  trumpets  hlozv, 

Ih  sees  his  hrood  about  thy  knee  i 
The  next,  like  fire  he  meets  the  foe. 

And  Jlrikes  hi:n  dead  for  thine  and  thee. 

Alfred   TENNVfON. 


151 


Ji  through  the  land  at  eve  ive  -ivent, 

And  plucked  the  ripened  ears, 
K'e  Jell  out,  my  ivife  and  I, 
O  •ive  fell  out,  I  kno-iv  not  tvhy. 

And  kiffed  again  ivith  tears. 

For  -when  nioe  came  ivhere  lies  the  child 

We  lofl  in  other  years. 
There  above  the  little  granje, 
O  there  above  the  little  graue. 

We  kiffed  again  --ivith  tears. 

Alkred  Tennyson. 


[1848?] 

Sh^ef.T  and  loiu,  siveet  and  loxv. 

Wind  of  the  ivejlern  sea, 
Lo-iv,  lo-iv,  breathe  and  bloiv, 

Wind  of  the  ^Mejlern  sea  ! 
Over  the  rolling  ivaters  go. 
Come  from  the  dying  moon,  and  bloiv, 

Bloiv  him  again  to  me : 
While  my  little  one,  tuhile  my  pretty  one,  Jleeps. 

Sleep  and  reft,  fteep  and  reft. 

Father  ivill  come  to  thee  soon ; 

Reft,  reft,  on  mother  s  breaft. 

Father  ivill  come  to  thee  soon  ^ 


Father  luill  come  to  /lis  babe  in  the  nejJ, 
Sil-ver  sails  ail  out  of  the  ivest 
Under  the  fil<ver  ?noon  : 
Sleep,  my  little  one,  Jleep,  7iiy  pretty  one,  Jleep. 

Alfred  Tennyson. 


[1850 ?J 

Come  not  n.vhen  I  am  dead. 

To  drop  thy  foolifh  tears  upon  my  gra've, 
To  trafnple  round  my  fallen  head. 

And  '-vex  the  unhappy  diiji  thou  ^wouldji  not  sa-x'e. 
There  let  the  n.uind  s-uueep,  and  the  plover  cry, 
But  thou,  go  by. 

Child,  if  it  --vere  thine  error  or  tliy  crime, 

I  care  no  longer,  being  all  unbleft  ; 
JVed  nvhom  thou  nvilt,  but  1  am  fick  of  Time, 

And  I  defire  to  reft. 
Pass  on,  n.ueak  heart,  and  lea-ve  me  -ivhere  I  lie: 

Go  by,  go  by.  Ali-red  TE^N^soN. 


THE    SENTENCES. 

ri85'-'.] 

THyirs,  my  heart  'i  no  match  for  tliine : 
Wafle  not  thy  n.varmth  on  me ;    but  go 

Seek  out  some  chillier  spirit ;    7nine 
Ajks  not  another  fire,  but  snoiv. 


«93 


The  lack  of  lovely  pride  in  her 

If'ho  Jlri'ves  to  please,  my  pleasure  7iu?nbs  \ 
And  flill  the  ?naid  I  ?noJl  prefer 

Whose  care  to  please  ivith  pleajing  comes. 

Coventry   Patmore. 


THE    REVELATION. 

[18S6.J 

An  idle  Poet,  here  and  there. 

Looks  round  him,  but,  for  all  the  reft. 
The  luorld,  unfathomably  fair. 

Is  duller  than  a  ivitlifig's  jejL 
Love  ivakes  7nen,  once  a  lifetime  each  ; 

They  lift  their  heavy  lids,  and  look ; 
And  lo,  --what  one  s-zveet  page  can  teach 

They  read  'with  Joy,  then  Jhut  the  book  : 
And  some  give  thanks,  and  some  blaspheme. 

And  moft  forget ;    but,  either  'way. 
That  and  the  Child's  unheeded  dream 

Is  all  the  light  of  all  their  day. 

Coventry   Patmore. 


INDEX    OF    WRITERS 

AND 

PUBLICATIONS. 


Ayton,  Sir  Robert 1570-1638 


Barnefield,   Richard 1574- 

Baron,  Robert 1630- 

Beaumont,   Francis  1586- 

Beddoes,   Thomas  Lovell 1803- 

Breton,  Nicholas  '555~ 

Brome,  Alexander 1620- 

Browne,  William i  590- 

Browning,  Robert 1812- 

Buckingham,   John   Sheffield,  Duke  of 1645- 

Burns,  Robert  I759~ 

Bvron,  George  Gordon   Noel  i~88- 


Campbell,  Thomas 1 777-1 844 

Campion,  Thomas i575.'-i6- 

Carew,  Thomas i  589-1  639 

Cartwright,  William 161  i-i  643 

Chatterton,  Thomas 175 

Coleridge,   Hartley  1796-1S49 

Coleridge,   Samuel   Taylor  1772-1S34 

Collins,  William •  7-o~'7  59 

Constable,  Henry  i568?-i6o4' 

Cotton,   Charles  1630-16S7 

19s 


6— 
6— 
616 
849 
624 
666 
645 

-20 
796 
824 


Cowley,  Abraham  1618-1667 

Cox,  Robert lytii  Century 

Crash  AW,  Richard 1615  ?-i65o? 

Daniel,  Samuel 1562-1619 

Darley,   George 1785-1849 

Davenant,  Sir   William 1605-1668 

Davies,  Sir  John  1570-1626 

Dekker,  Thomas i  5 1639  ■ 

Denham,  Sir  John i6i5-i66<S 

DiGGES,  Leonard 1 588-1 63 5 

Donne,  John 1  573-1631 

Drayton,  Michael I  563-1  631 

Drummond,  Will: am 1585-1649 

Dryden,  John 1631—1700 

DuFFETT,  Thomas 17th  Century 

Etherege,  Sir  George  i636?-i694? 

Fane,  Sir  Francis 17th  Century 

Fanshaw,  Sir  Richard 1607-1666 

Field,   Nathaniel 15- — 1638  ? 

Flatman,  Thomas 1633  .'-1668 

Flecknoe,   Richard i-th  Century 

Fletcher,  Giles 15S8  .'-1623 

Fletcher,  John 1576-1625 

Ford,  John 1 5 8 6-1 640  ? 

Ford,  Thomas  17th  Century 

Glapthorne,   Henry 17th  Century 

GofFE,  Thomas i  592— 1627 

Gomersall,  Robert 1600-1646 

Gould,   Robert  1 7th  Century 

Greene,  Robert i  560-1592 

Greville,   Fuike,  Lord  Brooke 1554-1628 

196 


Habington,  Wii-liam 1605— 1654 

HARiNGTON,  John 1534-1582 

Herbert,  George 1 59 3-1 632 

Herrick,  Robert  1591-1674 

Heyvvood,   Thomas  i58o?-i649? 

Hood,   Thomas  179S-1845 

HooKES,   N lych  Century 

Howard,  Sir  Robert 1622-1698 

Hughes,  H 17th  Century 

Hunt,  Leigh 1 784-1 S 59 

JoNSON,   Ben  1574-1637 

Keats,  John 1 795-1 821 

Killigrew,   Henry  1612-1688? 

Kinaston,  Sir  Francis 15 1642? 

King,   Henry,   Bifoop  of  Chic  heft  er 1591-1669 

Kingsley,  Charles 1819- 

Lluellin,   Martin 17th  Century 

Lodge,   Thomas 1556— 1625 

LovEKiN,   Philonax  17th  Century 

Lovelace,  Richard 161S-1658 

Lvly,  John  1554-1600 

Markham,  Gervase ilt\\  Century 

Marlowe,  Christoiiie:;  i5'^^~''S9^ 

Marvell,  Andrew 1620-1678 

Massinger,   Philip 1584-1640 

May,  Thomas 1 595-1 6.-0 

Milton,  John 1608-1674 

Montgomery,  James 1771-1854 

Moore,  Thomas i779-i8i;2 

Motherwell,  William...  '7y7-'^3S 

197 


Nabbes,  Thomas 1612  ?-i645 

Nash,  Thomas 1564  ?- 160  f? 

Patmore,  Coventry 1823- 

Feele,  George 1552  ?-i  597  ? 

I'fmbroke,   William   Herbert,   Earl  of 1580— 1630 

Pope,  Alexander 1688-1744 

Prior,  Mathf.w 1664-1721 

Procter,  Brvan  Waller  (^^^ Barry  Cornivall") 1787— 

Raleigh,  Sir  Walter  1552-1618 

Randolph,   Thomas I  605-1 634 

Rochester,  John   Wilmot,   Ear/  of 1647-1680 

RowLEV,  Samuel i-th  Century 

Sampson,  William  17th  Century 

Scott,  Sir  Walter 1771-1832 

Sf.dley,  Sir  Charles  1639-1701 

Shakespeare,   William 15 64-1  616 

Shelley,  Percy  Bysshe 1792-1822 

Shkrburne,  Sir  Edward 1618— 1702 

Shirley,  James i  596-1  666 

Sidney,  Sir   Philip 1554-1586 

Spencer,  Hon.  William  Robert   1770-1834 

Stanley,  Thomas 1625  ?-i678 

Suckling,  Sir  John 1608-1641  ? 

Surrey,   Henry  Howard,   Earl  of 1517-1547 

Taylor,  Henry 19^^  Century 

Tennyson,  Alfred 1810- 

Thackeray,  William  Makepeace 1811-1863 

Thurlovv,    Edward,   Lord 19th  Century 

Vaughan,   Henry 1621-1695 


Waller,  Edmund 1605-1687 

Walton,  Izaak 1593-1683 

Watson,   Thomas 1560-1591 

Webster,   John 15 16— 

Wither,  George 1588— 1667 

Wordsworth,   William 1770-1850 

WoTTON,  Sir  Henry 1568-1639 

Wyatt,  Sir  Thomas 1503-1542 


Academy  of  Compliments. 

Allison's  Hour's  Recreation  in  Music. 

Bateson's  Madrigals. 

Byrd's  Songs. 

Davison's   Poetical   Rhapsody. 

Dowland's  Book  of  Songs. 

Farmer's   English  Madrigals. 

Morley's  Madrigals. 

MusicA  Transalpina. 

Mysteries  of   Love  and  ELocyJENCE. 

Pilkington's  Madrigals. 

Sicily  and  Naples  :    a  Tragedy. 

Ward's  Madrigals. 

Weelkes's  Airs. 

Weelkes's  Ballads. 

Weelkes's  Madrigals. 

Wilbye's  Madrigals. 

Wit's  Recreations. 


IXDEX    OF   FIRST   LINES. 


A  cypress-bough,  and  a  rose-wreath   sweet 170 

Adieu  ;    farewell  earth's  bliss 19 

All  my  pall  life  is  mine  no  more 148 

All's  over,  then — docs  truth  sound  bitter 185 

All  the  flowers  of  the  Spring 68 

And  wilt  thou  leave  me  thus? I 

An  idle  Poet,  here  and  there     19+ 

Art  thou  poor,  yet  haft  thou  golJcn  flumbers .' 38 

As  it  fell  upon  a  day 36 

Aflc  me  no  more  where  Jme  bcftows 87 

A  ftccd  !   a  fteed  of  matchleffe  spcedc ! 176 

As  through  the  land  at  eve  we  went 191 

Awake  thee,  my  Lady-love ! ...  174 

Away  with  these  self-loving  lads. . . , 5 

Bid  me  not  go  where  neither  sun  nor  fliowers 105 

Blow,  blow,  thou  winter  wind 25 

Bright  fliines  the  sun,  play,  beggars,  play 49 

Call  for  the  robin  rcdbreaft  and  the  v/ren 67 

Cclia  is  cruel ;   Sylvia,  thou 149 

Change  mc,  O   Heaven  I    into  the  ruby  ftone 35 

Cherry-ripe,  ripe,  ripe,  I  cry in 

Chloris,  now  thou  art  fled  away 1 27 

Choose  the  darkcft  part  o'  th'  grove , i  ;o 

Cold  winter's  ice  is  fled  and  gone 47 

Come  away,  come  away,  death 28 

Come  buy,  you  lufty  gallants Si 

Come,  Chloris,  hie  we  to  the  bower '  144 

Come,  follow,  follow  me 132 

Come  live  with  mc,  and  be  my  love 17 

Come  not  when  1  am  dead ....  193 

200 


Come,  Somnus,  with  thy  potent  charms  136 

Come  unto  these  yellow  sands jo 

Come,  ye  young  men,  come  along 121 

Come,  you  heavy  ftates  of  night 43 

Cupid  all  his  arts  did  prove 134 

Cupid  and  my  Campaspe  played 7 

Cupid,  I  scorn  to   beg  the  art 146 

Dear,  do  not  your  fliir  beauty  wrong 119 

Dear  life,  while  I  do  touch 73 

Diaphenia,  like  the  daffadowndilly 41 

Do  not  conceal  thy  radiant  eyes loi 

Do  not  fear  to  put  thy  feet 61 

Down  lay  in  a  nook  my  lady's  brach 177 

Draw  near,  you  lovers  that  complain ilj 

Drink  to-day,  and  drown  all  sorrow 63 

Drink  to  me  only  with  thine  eyes 56 

Drop  golden  fhowers,  gentle  Sleep   81 

Earth  now  is  green,  and  heaven  is  blue 39 

Fair  daffodils,  we  weep  to  see 114 

Fair  Phillis  I  saw  fitting  all  alone 40 

Fair  pledges  of  a  fruitful  tree 115 

False  friend,  wilt  thou  smile,  or  weep 163 

Farewell,  my  sweet,  until  I  come 141 

Feed  her  with  the  leaves  of  Love 179 

From  all  uneasy  paHions  free  149 

Full  fathom  five  thy  father  lies 29 

Gather  ye  rose-buds  while  yc  may I  if' 

Give  Beauty  all  her  right 4S 

Give  place,  ye  lovers,  here  before i 

Glories,   pleasures,   pomps,  delight,  and  case 89 

Golden  bill!    Golden  bill! 178 

Go,  lovely   Rose ! '07 

Good  folk,  for  gold  or  hire "^ 

Had  Sorrow  ever  fitter  place 77 

Happy  the  man  whose  wifli  and  care 15' 


firiR 

Happy  those  early  days,  wheri  1 lio 

Mark,  happy  lovers,  hark 7J 

Hark  I    hark  !   the  lark  at  heaven's  gate  fings ^ 29 

Hark,  how  chimes  the  parting-bell loS 

Hark,  now  every  thing  is  dill 67 

Have  1  found  her;     O  lich  finding! 6; 

Hear,  sweet  spirit,  hear  the  spell i ;; 

Hence,  all  you  vain  delights 64 

Hence  Burgundy,  Claret,  and  Port 161 

Her  eyes  the  glow-worm  lend  thee 117 

He  's  great  that  mailers  his  own  soul 1  z; 

H  e  that  loves  a  rosy  check 86 

Hold  out,  my  heart,  with  joy's  delights  accloyeJ 51 

Ho,  pretty  page,  with  the  dimpled  chin 189 

H ow  comes  it.  Sleep,  that  thou 74 

How  happy  is  he  born  and  taught (x) 

How  I  laugh  at  their  fond  wilh 81 

I  dare  not  aOc  a  kiss 119 

r  do  confess  ihou'rt  smooth  and  fair 5  J 

I  fear  not  henceforth  death 71 

I   felt  my  heart,  and  found  a  flame     109 

If  thou  wilt  case  thy  heart 169 

If  wine  and  mufic  have  the  power 152 

1  in  these  flowery  meads  would  be 125 

I   love  thee,  I  love  thee 1 80 

I  love  to  hear  that  men  are  bound 187 

I  n  dew  of  roses  fteeping 45 

1  n  pride  of  May 55 

In  the  merry  month  of  May 15 

I   saw  fair  Chloris  walk  alone 130 

I  saw  my  lady  weep 45 

It  was  not  in  the  winter 172 

Jenny  kitfed  me  when  we  met 18; 

Kiss  me,  sweet ;    the  wary  lover 57 

Ladies,  flee  from  Love's  sweet  tale 79 

Ladies,  though  to  your  conquering  eyes i  j6 


Lady  and  gentlemen  fays,  come  buy  ! lyi 

Lady,  when   I   behold  the  roses  sprouting 35 

Lady,  yoiK  words  do  spite  me jj 

Like  as  from  heaven  the  dew  full  softly  fliowering 9 

Little  it  interefts  me  how 187 

Love  in  my  bosom  like  a  bee II 

Love  is  a  fickness  full  of  woes 76 

Love  is  the  bloflbm  where  there  blows 59 

Love  me  not  for  comely  grace J4 

May  I    Queen  of  bloffbms 166 

Morpheus,  the  humble  God,  that  dwells 10} 

My  love  in  her  attire  doth  (how  her  wit 51 

My  thoughts  are  winged  with  hopes,  my  hopes  with  love 44 

My  true  love  hath   my  heart,  and  I  have  his S 

Never  more  will  I  proteft 7' 

Nobleft  bodies  are  but  gilded  clay 100 

Not,  Celia,  that  I  jufter  am '4$ 

Often  have  I  heard  it  said 1S8 

Oh,  no  more,  no  more,  too  late 88 

O  miftress  mine,  where  are  you  roaming  ; 17 

O  my  luve's  like  a  red,  red  rose '54 

On  a  day,  (alack  the  day  !). -J 

On  a  hill  there  grows  a  flower >(> 

One  year  ago  my  path  was  green l^'' 

O  Nightingale!   thou  surely  art '57 

O  say,  dear  life,  when  (hall  those  twin-born  berries (») 

O  Sorrow,  Sorrow,  say  where  doft  thou  dwell ! <P 

O  (lay,  sweet  love,  see  here  the  place  of  sporting 4° 

O,  that  we  two  were   Maying ■•  "y° 

Out  upon  it,   I   have  loved '/' 

Over  hill,  over  dale ^ ' 

Pack  clouds  away,  and  welcome  day ^'^ 

Pan's  Syrinx  was  a  girl  indeed 

PaiTions  are  likened  bed  to  floods  and  (Ireams 'I 

Phillis,  men  say  that  all  my  vows '*'■ 

Preserve  thy  fighs,  unthrifty  girl '  *'' 

205 


Rarely,  rarely,  corned  ihou 164 

Reach  with  your  whiter  hands  to  mc 118 

Rise,  laJy,  miftrcss,  rise! ♦ 78 

Sabrina  fair 95 

See  the  chariot  at  hand  here  of  Love 58 

Shall  1,  hopeless,  then  pursue    1 14 

Shall  1  tell  you  whom  1  love  >. 74 

Shall  1,  wafting  in  despair 65 

She  is  not  fair  to  outward  view 177 

She  loves,  and  (he  confelTcs  too no 

She  walks  in  beauty,  like  the  night 160 

Sigh  no  more,  ladies,  figh  no  more   26 

Sing  ! — Who  fings l8i 

Sitting  by  a  river's  fide 21 

Sleep,  deep,  mine  only  jewel g 

Solitude,  of  friends  the  bed 129 

Spring  it  is  cheery 171 

Spring,  the  sweet  Spring,  is  the  year's  pleasant  King 21 

Star  that  bringeft  home  the  bee 167 

Stay,  bold  thoughts,  refrain  your  will 80 

Steer,  hither  fteer,  your  winged  pines 75 

Still-born  Silence,  thou  that  art 1 30 

Still  to  be  neat,  ftill  to  be  dred 56 

Strike  again  !    O,  no,  no  more 83 

Sweet  and  low,  sweet  and  low 192 

Sweet  day,  so  cool,  so  calm,  so  bright 85 

Sweet  Echo,  sweeteft  nymph,  that  liv'ft  unseen 91 

Swceted  love,  I  do  not  go 31 

Sweet  in  her  green  dell  the  flower  of  beauty  flumbers 17; 

Sweet  wedern  wind,  whose  luck  it  is 1 1 S 

Take,  oh  !   take  those  lips  away 28,  6; 

Tell  me  no  more  how  fair  (he  is 131 

Tell  me  not  of  a  face  that's  fair 137 

Tell  me  not,  sweet,  I  am  unkind 105 

Tell  me  once,  dear,  how  it  does  prove 13J 

Tell  me  where  is  fancy  bred 24 

Thais,  my  heart's  no  match  for  thine 193 

That  which  her  flendcr  waid  confined 106 

204 


The  fountains  mingle  with  the  river 165 

The  glories  of  our  blood  and  ftate 108 

The  labouring  man  that  plants  and  sows 1 1(, 

The  lark  now  leaves  his  watery  neft 1^0 

The  Moth's  kiss,  firft  ! iS^ 

There  is  a  garden  in  her  face 52 

There  is  a  jewel  which  no  Indian  mine  can  buy 34 

There's  not  a  look,  a  word  of  thine 156 

The  swallow  leaves  her  neft 168 

The  world  goes  up,  and  the  world  goes  down ly i 

The  year's  at  the  Spring 184 

Think  not  of  it,  sweet  one,  so 161 

Thy  voice  is  heard  through  rolling  drums 191 

'Tis  late  and  cold  ;    ftir  up  the  fire 61 

To  fair  Fidele's  graffy  tomb 153 

Too  late  I  flayed — forgive  the  crime 158 

T'other  day,  as  I  was  twining 1S6 

To  thy  lover 98 

Unclose  those  eyelids,  and  outfhine 97 

Under  the  greenwood  tree 25 

Upon  a  hill  the  bonny  boy 55 

Up,  up  !   ye  dames,  ye  laiTes  gay  !   1 56 

Vows  are  vain.     No  suppliant  breath 91 

Wafted,  weary,  wherefore  ftay 1 59 

Waters  above,  eternal  springs 111 

Weave  no  more  the  marriage  chain  ! 181 

We  care  not  for  money,  riches,  or  wealth , 84 

Weep  no  more,  nor  figh,  nor  groan ()i 

What  bird  so  fings,  yet  so  docs  wail  ! 7 

What  bufiness  calls  thee  hence,  and  calls  not  mc  ? 128 

What  is  war,  and  all  its  joys  ? 1 54 

What  pleasure  have  great  princes 10 

What  Oiall  become  of  Man  so  wise >4i 

What  thing  is  love  !    for  sure  love  is  a  thing 17 

What  though  with  figures  I  (hould  raise V7 

Whence  comes  my  love  >     O  heart,  disclose  ! 4 

When  Love  with  unconfined  wings 10) 

zo; 


When  to  her  lute  Corinna  fings 47 

When  will  the  fountain  of  my  tears  be  dry  i 50 

Where  the  bee  sucks,  there  suck  I jo 

While   Morpheus  thus  does  gently  lay 94 

Whiiher  so  faft  ?     Ah,  see  the  kindly  flowers 54 

Why  are  you,  ladies,  (laying 46 

Why  art  thou  flow,  thou  reft  of  trouble.  Death 85 

Why  do  ye  weep,  sweet  babes  ?     Can  tears iij 

Why  ("hould  we  murmur,  why  repine   14; 

Wily  so  pale  and  wan,  fond  lover !   95 

With  fragrant  flowers  we  ftrew  the  way 42. 

Within  this  bottle's  to  be  seen 158 

Ye,  blufhing  virgins,  happy  are 90 

Ye  have  been  frelh  and  green Ill 

Ye  living  lamps,  by  whose  dear  light 147 

You'll  love  me  yet !   and  I  can  tarry 18 j 

You  meaner  beauties  of  the  night 70 

Young  men  will  love  thee  more  fair  and  more  faft 159 

.You  that  think  love  can  convey 88 


THE     END. 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

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